Sanctuary
by Addizen
Summary: A twist on the season 6 finale of Grey's Anatomy. Addison has returned to Seattle and is present during the shooting. How will this change things for Addison and the other doctors of SGMW? Addison/Alex, other characters also involved. Rated M due to graphic violence in later chapters. Reviews appreciated!
1. Time Heals All Wounds

**Time Heals All Wounds**

**Seattle Grace Mercy West Hospital - **the present

**Author's Note - **I feel like this is short, but it's just an introductory chapter. Hopefully the following chapters will be more substantial. This is the first chapter of the first fic I've ever posted on here. Enjoy!

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"Dr. Montgomery? … Addison?"

"Huh?" A set of distant blue-green eyes was ripped from their previous transfixion, landing on the patient but tired face of the hospital's therapist. How convenient, it seemed, that he sat with his back to the large window of the conference room. Between the hanging blinds, Addison had been focused on the tiny droplets of water that were splattered on the window panes, blown there by the wind that accompanied the storm and struggling to cling there against gravity. Addison knew that feeling well-being trapped and fighting not to slip down and endless chasm of uncertainty. She'd been like this ever since the incident, trying to remain present when her mind was chasing down haunting memories. The redhead hated feeling like this: distant… unfocussed. It was good that Seattle Grace Mercy West had mandated a leave of absence for everyone involved in the tragedy, because Addison would undoubtedly have killed a patient or two by now with her uncoordinated and clumsy thought patterns. Even the brief pause in conversation and the soft scratches of the pen against his notebook was enough to catapult her back in time, questions and unexplored options taunting her without relief. She hadn't been listening, and for that, she was sorry. A slight flush colored her cheeks as she politely averted her gaze, knowing she was likely staring through him in an unnerving fashion.

"What did you do with your time off?" He asked again, his tone insistent but irritatingly calm. How he managed to sit in this room for hour after hour, interviewing doctor after doctor with that same levelheadedness astonished her. Addison figured she could speak for all of them when she said she didn't want to be here. She didn't want to be in Seattle, even, but her unrelenting urge to fight all her demons had drawn her back after the month was up. Though the talking was the only way to get cleared for surgery, Addison had no interest in it. She was no stranger to personal tragedy, her life having been a series of disappointments masked by all her impressive accomplishments. With scalpel in hand, her OR was a pristine and precise work environment. Even the most complex procedures weren't beyond her reach, but that hardly made up for the fact that she couldn't get anything else in her life to straighten itself out. Her family had been damaged from the start, though to the untrained eye it seemed perfect. Her marriage had crumbled. She'd become an adulterer to spite her best efforts not to be like her father. Really, there was a long list of disappointments and adversity that Addison had handled in her lifetime. None of that had been anywhere near the scale of the mass murder that she had witnessed, but she supposed the skills to cope with it were the same. Those skills never involved the help of a therapist. They never involved talking about her problems. The fact that he asked her such a simple question, as if he wasn't looking for any insight whatsoever into her current emotional state, was almost insulting. If her thoughts hadn't been so fragmented, there would have been a very real anger for her to swallow down, but in its place was a foggy, almost numbing sensation that left her stomach cold and empty.

After a pause that was likely longer than appropriate, she answered him. "I went home," she insisted simply. The reality was much more complex than this single statement, but she didn't deem him worthy of knowing the whole story. He didn't need to hear about her attempt to stay in Seattle. She didn't need to hear his opinions on the wisdom behind her decision to stay at Seattle Presbyterian and hover at _his_ bedside, and Addison absolutely did not want him to hear about the argument that ensued once the man she'd been so gravely concerned for had regained his strength enough to push her away. He paused politely, hoping the wait would encourage her to embellish, and with a quiet sigh, she obliged. "I spent some time back in Los Angeles. My brother came to make sure I was still alive and in one piece," the slight eye roll at the mention of Archer didn't go unnoticed, but Addison didn't much care, "mostly, I laid on the beach until it was time to come back to work." Addison wished he would hurry up and get to the crux of their conversation. Banalities like this had always irritated her, especially when she would much rather get the shrinking over with and move on. Why did it matter that she spent the past two weeks staring out into the vast expanse of ocean, sipping wine and letting her mind twist itself until reality was pleasantly convoluted and unrecognizable? It had been one of her hobbies _before_ she came to Seattle again, so the fact that she'd run right back to it shouldn't have been cause for alarm. In crisis, it was only natural to turn to old habits and comforts in an attempt to fix the overwhelming damage the incident caused. Los Angeles, her colleagues there, the ocean and wine were all safe things for Addison. She'd hardly even been in Seattle long enough to settle into her new position at the hospital. Comforts like those in LA just didn't exist here yet. Maybe they never would. Well… the redhead knew one thing she was hoping to count on, but she was met with nothing but bitter disappointment. She only hoped he couldn't read the thoughts off her troubled, wistful expression.

The therapist nodded and 'uh hum'd along, jotting down notes as he went. She knew full well he was not making note of intriguing bits of her story, but rather the things her hesitation or choice of words said about her state of mind. Addison wasn't a fool. She knew she was damaged and struggling just like everyone else was, but the important part was that she was coming to terms without being self destructive. Being back in Seattle and having to face the daunting task of stitching herself back together on her own was proving painful at best, but she was getting through it one day at a time. "And how are you doing with being back to work?" His voice again interrupted her thoughts, his words prodding intrusively at every sore place she was guarding. He obviously had some idea of where potential difficulties would be. Post traumatic stress disorder, he likely suspected. His question was probing, searching for signs of new-found phobias and triggers. Addison met his eyes briefly, for the first time demonstrating an emotion that wasn't distracted or uninvested: a hot flash of anger. The neonatal surgeon fell under the subset of people who didn't like psychiatrists, mostly because she was smart enough to see the true intention behind his questions. It felt distinctly like trickery to get her to tell him all there was to know about her feelings, especially for someone who prided herself on being a private person. His questions didn't offend her, but his assumption that she would simply confide in him certainly did, and she wanted him to know it.

"I wouldn't call it 'work'," she retorted with furrowed brows, jaw set tightly in frustration. Addison Montgomery was a surgeon. That meant commanding the well-orchestrated routine in her OR, making precise and delicate slices in order to repair damages, and saving lives. It meant being in control of her patients from start to finish. _That_ was her work. Richard had Addison buried in paperwork and running a few routine ultrasounds in each of her shifts. Like everyone else, she was banned from the OR until deemed fit. The redhead hated this form of punishment even if it was for her own good, growing restless as she slowly approached 'normal'. She had no idea how she might react once she finally set foot in the sterile environment again, and that was considered a liability. Still, she was convinced that the only cure for her disorganized mind and constant, painful flashbacks would be a complicated surgery that required all of her mental power. She just had to convince the man sitting across from her of that fact. With an exasperated sigh, she dropped her face into her hands momentarily, rubbing the frustration and mild exhaustion from her face. Too many nights filled with nightmares was bound to tire a person out, and the poorly covered dark circles beneath her eyes were proof. "It's fine," she muttered before scanning him with another furtive glance. He was far from impressed with her effort, she could tell. Propping her chin up on one fist, she leaned into the table slightly, coaxing herself to open up. Anything to get out of seeing the dreaded therapist tomorrow was something she was willing to try. "There are still… there are places I'd rather not go," the elevator being one of them, "but I'm fine. It's a process." This conclusion seemed both healthy and satisfactory. As soon as she saw the relatively stoic man nod and jot a few more things down, she allowed her gaze to turn back to the window. How fitting, she thought, that such a dreary day outside met her anxious and unpleasant feelings so perfectly.

"It _is_ a process," the low, warm voice reassured her, but she was only half listening. She knew what came next. Another part of the process of healing after a traumatic event: the recount, in as many painful details as she could bear to share. Already, she was mentally steeling herself as best she could, knowing the only way she'd get out of here was if she was candid and sincere. That meant the horrific images that continued to scroll past in her mind's eye day in and day out would have to be unleashed to another human being. Pools of blood. Staring down the barrel of a loaded gun. The promise of a slow, painful death. All of these visions would be revealed.

"I know this is difficult," the minute he started, she almost entirely tuned him out, listening to the cadence of his syllables and simply waiting for them to stop before pulling him into the depths of her dark mind. "… but anything you can tell me about your experience is a step in the right direction. Can you walk me through what happened that day? Take your time." As if he had the time to listen to all she had to say. If only she could melt into the tiny raindrops outside the window. Maybe the relentless fight to remain stoic and normal wasn't worth it. For now, at least, she'd have to give up that act. Slowly but surely, she pushed the 'play' button on her memory, still fixated with the tiny, almost shimmering beads of water. She could do this. It was a story worth telling, even if all she wanted to do was forget. Who knew? Maybe telling him would help her forget it once and for all like he suggested.

"I hadn't been in Seattle that long. I _thought_ coming back was the right decision…" As the words slowly fell from her lips, Seattle Grace Mercy West hospital came to life so vividly it felt as if she was actually standing there. It was just another day at work...


	2. A Day Like Any Other

**A Day Like Any Other**

**Seattle Grace Mercy West - **Day of the shooting

**Author's Note - **Some of the dialogue included in this portion is directly from episode 6x23 (Sanctuary).

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_Beep beep beep_. The piercing sound of her pager jolted her awake, ripping her from the pleasant reverie that accompanied her unusually deep slumber. It was rare for Addison to find time to sleep in the hospital, let alone so early into her shift. The previous night, she'd been on call. When a car crash had all but crushed a pregnant woman's chest, Addison abandoned the idea of sleeping through the night and donned her usual surgical attire, working hand in hand with Dr. Altman to try and stabilize mom and baby. One very complicated cesarean section later, the redhead checked another tiny patient into the NICU she had come to share with Dr. Robbins. The mother was left without a uterus, but she was going to live. Hopefully, there would be better news for the daughter that had been brought into the world a little bit earlier than anticipated. By the time she'd scrubbed her hands clean with antiseptic, it was practically time for rounds. If there was one thing she was grateful for, it was the fact that the hospital had recently undergone a merger with Mercy West. She didn't necessarily _like_ the new residents, but it provided all the attendings with more helping hands for scutwork. A 'Dr. Reed Adamson' had been assigned to her service for the day. Addison gave her short and slightly irritated instructions to cover the pit and sent her on her way, finding a quiet corner in a secluded lounge to do some paperwork. Paperwork, apparently, had turned into a much needed nap.

Glancing down at the annoyance to shut it off, she pushed herself up off the couch, folding the chart in her lap closed in the process. Unfortunately, it was a page she couldn't ignore. It appeared the resident she had covering the ER had found something worthy of her surgical expertise. _Great_, she grumbled inwardly, _I'll actually have to_ teach _Dr. Adamson today_. Addison hadn't really seen much of Reed in the way of her surgical skills, but word of her romantic interests had spread like wildfire around the hospital. It was no secret that she was chasing Alex Karev. Judging by how the younger doctor looked at Addison from time to time to spite the fact that before today, the two had never worked together, Reed was just as aware of Addison's fondness of the pediatrics resident. Perhaps not fondness, but rather her unmistakeable yet completely silent communication with him. It was no secret that Alex used to be Addison's golden boy back in his intern year. Their shared history seemed to seal his place on her surgical team practically every time she set foot in the OR, especially after her departure for LA. It seemed almost as if time hadn't passed while the redhead was gone, and each of her short visits had been met with great enthusiasm by the handsome, albeit rough-around-the-edges resident. Now that she was back full-time, however, she was once again forced to spend equal time with all residents. Dr. Adamson was no exception to this rule, though Addison thought the resident would do well to hide her open disdain with a little more effort. Perhaps _that_ would be the lesson for the day. After all, she'd broken through to Dr. Karev. Difficult personalities seemed to be her specialty just as much as neonatal was.

Remaining impartial to her assigned resident was usually not a problem, although this morning she was feeling unusually irritated. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep the night before, or the stiffness that radiated through her neck and shoulders from the awkward sleeping position, but either way she knew she was going to have a hard time keeping her emotion in check. The page hadn't been an absolute emergency, so the redhead took her time in stopping by the nurses station on the surgical floor, dropping off the chart in her hand before heading toward the ER. As she crossed the catwalk, she caught sight of Derek and couldn't help but smile slightly. Though the two had once been married, the tension had dissolved as the years since their divorce rolled by. Addison was genuinely happy for him and Meredith, even if there was no shining new relationship for her to revel in as well. The call to return to Seattle had come from none other than her ex-husband, Chief Shepherd knowing better than anyone else that Seattle Grace Mercy West was where Addison Montgomery belonged. She was a surgeon, and he made sure to remind her of that with promises of fancy machinery and a NICU that St. Ambrose just couldn't rival. "Good morning, _Chief_," she offered with a casual smirk. For all the darkness his departure had brought into her life, seeing Derek this morning was actually the highlight of her day. Though she might never openly admit it, she actually _missed_ seeing and working with him, the absence felt instantly after she moved away.

"Addie," he nodded in greeting as she passed him by, using the casual nickname to counter the way his title rolled playfully from her tongue. A thought undoubtedly dawned on him as he called after her. "Oh, there's a staff meeting this afternoon. Conference room, 4:30." Knowing the redhead was still somewhat new to the system here, having had several years off to mess around with a private practice of her own and a lack of consistent surgeries, he figured the email had yet to reach her inbox. The genuine surprise on her face confirmed his suspicions.

"I'll be there," she assured him over her shoulder, trying to look like she was in a hurry to be somewhere. Keeping their interactions brief and pleasant was something Addison had down to an art. Obviously not wanting to keep her from whatever important call she was answering, he turned back to face the enormous glass window, staring thoughtfully at the Washington landscape. He certainly had become quite the outdoorsman since moving here. Not wanting to dwell on the distraction of pleasant nostalgia for too long, she took the quick elevator ride down to the ER, passing supply and suture rooms until she emerged into the ever-chaotic scene of the main portion of the floor.

The rush and noise of 'the pit' snapped her back into her element almost immediately, carrying with it the minor annoyance that she wasn't as sharp as she could have been with a few extra hours of actual sleep. That, coupled with the fact that her resident was in the far corner and already sending her an annoying, doe-eyed glare was enough to flare her often venomous, sometimes explosive temper. Addison pushed her way past nurses and doctors alike, barely recognizing any of them in her haste to fulfill her duty as the OB/GYN attending on notice for the ER. "What've we got?" she demanded, putting on her familiar, authoritative tone. She listened carefully as Reed fired off the information piece by piece, fitting each of them together in her mind until several potential problems became immediately apparent. The patient, Angela West, presented with a persistent headache, nausea, abdominal pain, and was about 26 weeks along. "Angela? I'm Dr. Montgomery. We're going to take care of you, okay?" Her smooth, calming bedside manner was unaffected by the fact that her intern continued to look at her like she didn't deserve an ounce of respect. Giving Angela's arm a reassuring squeeze, she ordered a battery of tests, trying her best to cover the pained expression on her face as her new-found patient cried out in pain. Administering a painkiller and taking a quick look at a portable ultrasound, her eyes were solely on the monitors until she realized the mousey resident was still standing there dumbly. "Since you're so eager to help, Dr. Adamson," she started in a tone that most residents knew bore the promise of punishment, "you can sit and watch the fetal monitor. If you see _any_ signs of distress, or if her labs come back, page me." Turning to the patient again, she assured her that for now, everything was just fine. Once the tests came back, they could move her upstairs and take the appropriate steps to alleviate her distress, but for now it was a waiting game.

Pulling the curtain closed to offer some privacy, she heaved a heavy sigh and surveyed the surrounding area. Familiar faces began to come into view: Lexie and Dr. Robbins were with a little girl to her left. Across the way, she could see Alex scanning his eyes over a leg x-ray, pensive as ever. It wasn't long before Callie appeared, a scowl contorting her features. Against her better judgement, Addison called out to her, offering her brief congratulations for her recent accomplishment of finally becoming an attending. The compliment seemed to be lost on her friend, but she still nodded in distracted thanks. The two had been so busy lately, they really didn't have much time to see each other. The orthopedic surgeon was busy with some new and dramatic development practically every day, which entertained Addison, but also made it hard to keep tabs. Her sharp blue-green gaze followed her friend as she met up with Alex, who turned and glanced straight over Callie's shoulder in the redhead's direction. Whatever the two were talking about, both were clearly only half-invested, Callie's own glances skimming the figure of Arizona as she discussed with her resident. Alex's dark eyes skipped right past his attending and met Addison's pale ones with a familiar spark, and for a moment time stood still. All of his pain and unhappiness seemed to translate into that steady gaze, whispering to the redhead that he was emotionally up a creek without a paddle. She'd been watching him from afar ever since she showed up, knowing he was dealing with far more than he would let onto. In passing, he'd mentioned both his wedding and subsequent impending divorce with one Izzie Stevens. The way he tried to pass it off as nothing told the redhead instantly that he was suffering a great deal in silence. Watching him flounder in what could only be classified as a rebound relationship with Lexie was nearly unbearable. Still, he was getting by one day at a time. Eventually, she assured him, things would get better. She hadn't exactly believed it, but the thought of Derek no longer made her feel like she wasted her entire life. In time, she hoped Alex would find that same meager sort of peace. In that same instant, a glimmer of understanding registered in his eyes, and she knew he saw right past her frustration. There was something deeper troubling Addison, and even if she didn't know it, he did.

Just as quickly as the moment had begun, her eyes were torn away from his when a man appeared in front of her. He was tall, wearing an old and rather worn looking tan coat. A well-trimmed mustache framed his upper lip, his sandy brows furrowed in concentration. There was a dark, desperate burning in his eyes that drew her attention immediately. "Can I help you?" She frowned slightly to match his troubled expression. He must've been lost. It was a big, complicated hospital. Maybe a loved one had come in on an ambulance and they had become separated in the calamity. "Can you tell me where I can find the chief of surgery? … Dr. Shepherd?" At first, Addison thought he was referring to her, but reminded herself that Derek _was_ the chief now, and she hadn't been 'Dr. Shepherd' since she'd left this hospital some years ago. As she opened her mouth to reply, however, the sound of the curtain rushing back in its track caught her attention. "Dr. Montgomery, something's wrong," Reed's voice was shrill with urgency. "Excuse me," she answered the man with the most sincerity she could muster, turning on her heel and rushing back towards the patient. Before she could give her resident a good verbal lashing for being so imprecise with the delivery of her 'diagnosis', it became evident to her that Angela was in serious distress. All focus now on saving a life, it didn't even register that the man she'd been trying to help had wandered off again. Reed, although proving herself a useful set of helping hands, was already trying to find a way to back out of the case. "It's just that… obstetrics doesn't interest me," she reasoned, trying to get Addison to send her to piggyback on a more interesting case. She apparently had her eye on a GSW to the chest that was involved in a car accident. "Trauma is really more my thing," Reed insisted hopefully, trying to annoy Addison into sending her away, but was met with a glare that told her not to push her luck. Just when the redhead was certain Angela would remain stable long enough for them to at least determine if there was something they could do to help her, a seizure coursed through her body.

"Damnit, she's eclamptic," Addison practically groaned, struggling to pull the woman onto her left side with the help of a few nearby nurses. The redhead barked out orders, demanding someone call upstairs and book an OR for a crash c-section. This seemingly manageable case had become an emergent situation that required immediate delivery of the baby if either of them was going to survive. Again, it seemed her resident was more interested in standing in the way with a dumbstruck expression on her face than actually helping. "She's seizing, Reed. Don't just stand there. _Do something._" Just as the resident disappeared around the corner, Addison spotted the blood beginning to slowly accumulate between Angela's thighs. As soon as the seizing was under control and her resident returned with the supplies they needed to accomplish that, they would be off to surgery as fast as the elevators would carry them.

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The instant she heard the attending assignments, she knew it would be just another day in Hell. The transition from Mercy West to Seattle Grace hadn't been easy for any of the new residents, and Reed seemed to have it worst of all. The only thing she really had to be thankful for was that she still had her roommate, April Kepner, to keep her company behind closed doors. The two weren't as close as April seemed to think, but Reed really did genuinely like her. It was a shame that she seemed to get off on the wrong foot with the native residents of the hospital, particularly an alluring doctor by the name of Alex Karev. Try as she might, Reed hadn't quite broken through to Alex. Not enough to talk him into the possibility of seeing each other, anyway. He seemed to enjoy putting up a badass front, but Reed had watched him long enough to see there was more to him than his tough exterior. Even if she made that fact obvious, he seemed to want nothing to do with her. She made excuses for him in her mind, telling herself it was because of his wife, Izzie. Maybe more accurately, his ex-wife... she wasn't entirely sure. That excuse, however, didn't explain the fact that Alex was sleeping with (or dating? They sure didn't _seem_ like a couple…) Lexie Grey. It also didn't explain the way Addison Montgomery seemed to attract Karev's undivided attention every time she walked in a room. Reed understood that the two had history, but the way he looked at her suggested there was more to the story than a simple teacher/student relationship. What the redhead saw in the scruffy, foul-mouthed boy of a doctor was beyond Reed's comprehension. The attending was gorgeous, and from what she'd heard, at one point she'd slept with both Dr. Shepherd and Dr. Sloan. She could do better than Alex. It was easy to say that Reed was more than a little jealous of the effortless and silent conversation Alex and Addison seemed to carry in a crowded room. They probably thought nobody noticed, but then again Reed Adamson was invisible to most of SGMW's staff. What she wouldn't give for Alex to look at her that way, even just once. What she played off as a simple sexual attraction could really have been much more had he given her a chance.

Working with Dr. Montgomery had been just as much of a distinct displeasure as hearing her name called earlier that morning. Reed expected her to be tough, since she had a reputation for pushing residents with unrelenting perseverance, but she never expected her to be cold and dismissive. All morning long, it seemed Reed was an annoyance to the neonatal surgeon. She was sent to the pit under the assumption that Addison had nothing on the OR board until later that afternoon. Just when she made herself useful by finding what seemed like an adequate case for the esteemed surgeon she was working under, she was once again belittled and ultimately deemed useless. It wasn't like Reed to freeze up on the spot, but something about Addison intimidated and infuriated her. How could a woman like that win the affections of the one resident Reed wanted to like? More importantly, how could she possibly think their silent eye sex had gone unnoticed? _Something_ was going on, and Reed spent most of her morning trying to work up the courage to confront her attending about it. So what if she'd been a little bit distracted? The thought of a scandalous relationship was one she couldn't push from her head.

Her anger only grew when Dr. Montgomery scolded her openly while bent over her patient. Scurrying off like a frightened woodland creature, the resident was silently fuming, that fact becoming more and more prominent as she finally was beyond the redhead's icy stare. Reed wasn't a child. She knew how to take care of a patient that was suffering a seizure. In fact, she knew how to handle lots of situations; it was just that nobody ever really gave her a chance. Favoritism was running rampant in this hospital, and Reed wanted nothing to do with it. All she really could do, she reasoned, was her job. _That trauma would have been_ much _more interesting_, she thought to herself as she rounded the corner to the dimly lit supply room. At least Dr. Hunt would let her _do_ something. "That bitch," she muttered to herself as she rummaged through the shelves. At least here, she was alone. "I don't know what he sees in her," her hands groped through bins, searching for the supplies Addison required to stabilize her patient. She didn't even look up as someone came in through the opposite end of the room. "Excuse me, ma'am?" the gruff, irritated voice rang through the silence that so starkly contrasted the din of the ER. _Yet another person is demanding your attention like they deserve it_.

"It's _doctor_. What?" She didn't mean to be quite so harsh with the stranger, who appeared to be a family member who might have lost his way, but given the circumstances, she couldn't help herself. Everyone seemed to be demanding her attention only to deem her utterly obsolete. At least if she returned with the appropriate items, Addison might consider letting her scrub in to assist on the emergency delivery of the preemie Angela was carrying. Demanding a little respect from someone who _wasn't_ a doctor would even give her a slight ego boost before she had her dignity torn away again by Satan herself. Besides, 'ma'am' was an antiquated term for old, married women, which Reed Adamson certainly was not.

"I was wondering if you could tell me where I could find doctor Derek Shepherd?" At first, she expected her derisive tone to scare whoever it was off, not even bothering to look up from what she was doing. Finding the last of the supplies she needed, she finally turned her attention to the man standing a foot or so from her own position. Just as she suspected, he looked like a lost family member. His question was simple enough, but one Reed couldn't be bothered to answer.

"Um," she paused, feigning thought though it was obvious she wasn't actually trying to answer his question. "You know, I don't know." Maybe if she pretended she wasn't going to be of help, he would go find someone else to ask. After all, she had much more important things to do than give out directions that were clearly indicated on almost any of the hospital's directory signs. Beyond that, locating a doctor in a hospital was often a difficult task. Derek Shepherd was the chief of surgery. He could be any number of places and Reed simply didn't have time to track him down. Not with a pair of accusing blue-green eyes to greet her when she returned, regardless of how fast she moved. Pushing past him and deliberately bumping his shoulder out of the way, she tilted her chin upward slightly to attempt an air of authority. Much to her surprise, she felt a rough hand clamp like a vice around her forearm. What was this guy's problem? She gave him an incredulous look, eyes darting from his unrelenting grip to his face in silent question.

"Can you tell me where his office is? I'm kind of turned around, here." Whatever was wrong with the man standing in front of her, she didn't have time to deal with it. Wrenching her arm from his grip, a cold shudder washed up her spine, telling her something just wasn't right. Though she tried her best to hide it, a burst of adrenaline was coursing through her veins, her entire body beginning to slowly but surely tell her to turn and quietly leave.

"Sir… you know, I have a patient having seizures in there. Go find a nurse and ask them." Reed was unaware of how dismissive her tone was, but still she turned on her heel, fully prepared to march out of the room without looking back. It wasn't until he spoke again that she turned, studying the expression on his face. Again, her gut tried to tell her that something about the way he looked at her was slightly off. His voice wavered, heavy with something that sounded like remorse or regret over something he'd done...or, more accurately, was about to do.

"…Ma'am?" Ignoring the warning tone in his voice, she pushed out a terse sigh. Maybe he just didn't understand the urgency with which she needed to be back in the other room. She began to regret her choice to argue with him and withhold information, finding that this had taken longer than she bargained for.

"Look, you're not even supposed to be back here. I'm not a tour guide, I'm a surgeon, okay?" Instantly, she regretted her choice of words. Though she was trying to keep her urge to flee contained, hoping to remain calm and disinterested, the minute she saw the look in his eye, she knew. They always said that people could sense when their time had finally come. Some insisted there was a smell or sound, but what Reed experienced was just a feeling. An immense coldness washed through her stomach, threatening to push its contents up in one swift motion. She could see out of the corner of her eye that his arm was lifting, revealing something he'd kept concealed in his pocket. By the time she dared pry her eyes from his long enough to see what it was, the brilliant flash had already illuminated the room. It was over in an instant, but it felt like an incredibly long time. It was a gun. There was a bullet being fired from the chamber, and the muzzle was aimed squarely between her eyes. In a few milliseconds, the round would penetrate her skull. Delicate tissue that she was training to repair would be torn apart. She'd seen gunshots to the head before in texts and on cadavers. She knew exactly what was about to unfold. In that tiny span of time, her life flashed before her eyes in a cinematic fashion that the movies could never quite capture with any sort of justice. Her first bike. First day of school. Graduating high school. Terrible decisions she'd made and later regretted in college. Putting on a white coat for the first time. Meeting Percy and April. Reed didn't even feel the impact, her body instantly losing all control as she hit the ground with a dull, sickening _thud_. Her eyes glazed over, staring into no direction in particular as her still-pounding heart made quick work of pumping her blood into a thick, shining pool on the floor. Reed Adamson, who had only been trying to prove herself worthy of a second look, was dead in a matter of seconds.

"Dude," the sound of a familiar male voice drew Gary Clark's attention and he turned, smoking gun still in hand. He didn't want to kill any more people than he had to. He had a short, neat list. Thus far, he'd only injured one person. Well, not including the doctor he'd just killed. That one shot seemed to loosen up his trigger finger substantially. Just as Alex Karev rounded the corner, obviously having heard the concussion of sound resonating from the gun being fired, the shooter turned on him. "What the-" Alex began to stutter, looking past the gunman and seeing Reed in a pool of blood on the floor. Before he could say another word, Gary took aim and pulled the trigger, watching without a trace of emotion as the pediatric resident's body hit the floor. Satisfied with the cry of pain, he surveyed the mess he'd made for a moment. Neither of them were going to cause him anymore trouble. Pocketing the weapon again, he moved back into the crowded ER and toward an elevator, leaving the two doctors for dead in his wake.


	3. It Was Inevitable

**It Was Inevitable**

**Seattle Grace Mercy West - **Day of the shooting

**Author's Note - **Decided to play around a little more with different POVs. Enjoy!

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"Good man, Alex, thanks." Callie's voice was thick with sarcasm that Alex could wholly appreciate. Everything that happened the past few weeks felt like a kick in the teeth, and today was apparently not going to be the much-anticipated exception. He did his best to shrug it off and accept it for what it was, but sometimes he wondered how he had earned _this_ as his life. It wasn't like he even did anything deliberately to deserve the crap that was dished out to him daily. Last time he checked, Torres was on good terms with him, but clearly didn't appreciate his being a smartass. Whatever was going on with her, he had the distinct misfortune of being assigned to her service for the day. His brown eyes narrowed slightly as he went back to looking at the patients chart for a moment, simply taking the abuse as he always did. With an upbringing like his, a little verbal assault wasn't anything he couldn't handle. In fact, if it made Callie feel better by having an outlet to relieve some of her stress, he could almost consider it a good deed not to reply with another snide remark. Though he pretended not to notice, Alex was more than aware of the fact that Callie and Arizona weren't on speaking terms. They weren't even looking at each other. That only meant one thing: whether he was with Torres or Robbins, his whole day was ruined.

The awkward silence was more than uncomfortable, and the resident fiddled with his pager for a moment before scanning the room. Maybe another interesting trauma would roll in and he could be reassigned and escape what was apparently a lovers' quarrel. Callie certainly wasn't barking out orders that he could easily follow to keep his mind on auto-pilot. Work was really all he was interested in right now. Well, that and sex, but Lexie had turned a good deal into something much more complicated. Not that he tried to stop her, really. He just wanted to be a typical, blend into the background kind of guy. Having someone 'normal' to parade around seemed to make everyone else forget about the train wreck that was his relationship with Izzie. Every time he stopped to think for too long, the sadness he kept buried deep in his heart threatened to rear its ugly head. Alex wasn't interested in unleashing that beast. Just as another harsh whisper of secret pain began to chime in his ear, he caught a glimpse of red over Callie's shoulder. Immediately, his fiery eyes caught Addison's icy stare and locked there. This had become a routine since the redhead stepped back into his life-eyes meeting across the room or OR table, just like old times. There was a certain tragic beauty to Addison that Alex always admired. He'd joked with George years ago, calling her 'McHot', but something else drew him to her. Something he didn't have the mental energy to identify, and so instead he carried out these tiny, secret conversations with her.

A heaviness seemed to be weighing the redhead down this morning, but the unexplained emotion paled in comparison to Alex's own troubles. Since her return to Seattle, Alex and Addison had kept up what most would call a friendship. The peds resident had taken a while to open up to her to any degree, but she was always warm and inviting. There was a shared sense of understanding that coaxed him to give away details of his private life knowing she wouldn't tell a soul. Beyond that, he enjoyed his time in the OR with her. They made a good team, and not just because he was obedient and she was the queen of her specialty. They were just on the same wavelength. Sometimes, her careful watch or compliment in passing provided him a much needed breath of fresh air. With such impeccable timing, Alex wondered if it could really be coincidence, or if she actually saw him in a way nobody else did. Either way, he appreciated the fact that she knew what he was going through. He didn't come right out and bear his soul to her, but he told her enough for her to probably put the pieces together. Enough for her to know when to offer some encouragement. For a moment, he wished he was on her service for the day. He could use a little reassurance, even if it came in the form of a harsh verbal lashing. He might even find a little enjoyment in ruffling the redhead's metaphorical feathers. Nothing brought a smirk to his boyish features like watching the usually poised and put together surgeon stumble over herself clumsily. No wonder Alex missed her when she disappeared to LA.

Just as quickly as their eyes met, she was off to the next thing, their brief exchange now nothing but a memory to add to the pile marked 'eye contact conversations with Montgomery'. Dropping his pager into his pocket out of habit, he turned and went to check on the labs he was waiting on. As entertaining as it would be to antagonize Torres into scolding him for his laziness, Alex actually didn't want to make things worse for her. He had a feeling it would indirectly affect Dr. Robbins, and he had no desire to make her day any worse than it had to be. She was his mentor. Aside from Addison, she was the only person who ever really gave a shit about his future as a surgeon. It was probably a good idea not to burn that bridge down if he could help it. Drumming his fingers against the counter that barricaded the outside world from the lab technicians, he heaved an anxious sigh. Nobody ever worked as quickly as he wanted them to, especially when a rush order was put in. There was _always_ somebody ahead of you in a hospital. A more critical patient, or one who had been waiting longer, or a lab tech who held a personal grudge against the doctor giving the orders. It wasn't long before his impatience got the better of him. "Screw this," he muttered under his breath, turning and heading down another familiar hallway. If the labs were going to take all freaking day, he might as well take the time to take a piss while he waited. Pushing past the unusually hectic staff as he went without any sort of finesse, he disappeared into the mens room. Emerging a couple minutes later, he wiped the excess sink water on his scrub pants and tried to let the small relief put him in a better mood. If that didn't work, the thought of a new ambulance rolling in any minute certainly would. It didn't matter what it was, as long as he got to cut. The longer the surgery, the better. As he began to slip into blood- and gore-filled fantasies, a sudden _bang_ caught his attention. Could that have been…? There was no way he was hearing things correctly. He could have sworn the pop was a shot being fired, but that was impossible. They were in a _hospital_. People didn't get shot here. People with gunshot wounds were _saved_ here.

Still, he figured it would probably be safest if he went to investigate. Whatever the loud noise was, it could have been a sure sign of trouble. His feet instinctively carried him towards the open door that lead to the medical supply room, hoping to find a pressurized tank had blown a gasket or something had suddenly clattered to the floor. Anything that would explain the disturbance other than a gunshot would really be fine with him. As he came around the corner, however, two things became immediately apparent: there _was_ a gun, and there was a shooter still standing in the room. The whole thing was so absurd; so out of place, Alex didn't know how to react. "Dude," he said through a slight smirk, a nervous habit he had developed somewhere along the way to cope with the unthinkable. It was another fraction of a second before he realized his eyes were drawn instantly to the floor. Surrounded by a still spreading puddle of blood, Reed stared up vaguely in his direction, her eyes dull and obviously lifeless. This had to be some sort of joke. That, or a sick dream. "What the-" he started quietly, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together. He barely even saw the man with the gun as he turned in a fluid motion and took aim. _This isn't happening_, his brain tried to reason, but already his arm was raised in an attempt to defend his face. His body knew the shot was inevitably coming before the overwhelming force tore through his ribcage and penetrated his chest. A strangled cry of surprise and pain escaped his lungs as he fell backwards, the impact with the floor almost as jarring as the shot itself. He laid still for a moment, stunned and unable to even attempt to breathe in as Gary stepped casually over him and disappeared down the hall. The world threatened to fade from his sight, the sound of the gun firing still ringing in his ears as his body went numb. _Fuck. This is it_, he thought. He'd finally been put out of his misery.

Alex's scattered thoughts had convinced him that he was a dead man. He'd been shot. He'd been shot _in the chest_. He expected to die before he could even feel the brunt of the pain. Only he didn't. Suddenly, the paralyzed muscles of his chest released, causing a sudden rush of air to enter his lungs. Correction: lung. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the other one might have a bullet lodged in it somewhere, but that didn't make the reality of his situation any easier to swallow. Pain was ripping through his side, delving deep between his ribs and fighting against his struggle to breathe. He could feel the blood gushing from his side, already starting to stain his pale blue scrubs black. Reed was dead. That had been real, right? Reed was dead on the floor beside him, and he was threatening to join her if he didn't do something, and fast. _Think, Alex_, his brain tried to push him to action, but it was a moment longer before his body could register anything but the pain. He knew only one thing: the longer he stayed there, the more blood he'd lose… the harder it would be to breathe… the closer he'd be to death. Instinct kicked in and before he knew it, he was squirming on his side, one arm clamped down over the bullet wound while the other aided in his attempt to create a little momentum. Where he was going, he had no idea. The only thing he was certain of was the fact that he was going to get out of here. Alive, if he had anything to say about it. He hadn't survived all the crap life threw at him for all these years to die in a supply closet in a pool of his own blood. He was a fighter, and he was going to fight like Hell to get through this.

It wasn't long before he'd inched his way out into the hallway, the sudden adrenaline rush blocking some of the pain and allowing him to think clearly. He had to find someone. It didn't matter who, just someone who could help him. The only problem was he was currently in the middle of a usually vacant hallway in the back portion of the ER. Nobody was going to find him here, but how was he supposed to get far enough to be found? He knew the near-blinding pain and the attempt to walk would only cause him to bleed out faster. Then, he realized, the answer to his prayers was staring him in the face. _The elevator_. If he could just get to it, he could send himself up to the surgical wing. The lobby was always crowded. Someone would _have_ to see him. A newfound determination fueling his every move, Alex squirmed and kicked, pushing himself along and leaving a smeared trail of blood in his wake until he made it to the doors. Now, he just had to get them open. Pushing himself up to a sitting position with his free hand, his other arm still hugged tightly to his ribcage, he struggled to get his legs underneath him. The mere attempt to lean forward and support his weight with his feet caused him to wince, his jaw tight to suppress a yell of sheer torment. Gathering himself and gasping from the effort, he instead reached up, fingers struggling to gain the length necessary to hit the button. White light illuminated it and he collapsed back down against the sterile linoleum, squeezing his eyes shut. _Focus_, his will to survive was coaching him through this. He could breathe through the pain. The exhaustion was just an illusion. Blood loss and a slowly growing hemothorax wouldn't defeat him. The doors slid open and he used the edge to pull himself in, straining from the effort of alternating feet and singular arm until he was partway inside. As the seconds ticked by, he became more aware of how tired he was, pausing for a fraction of a second to try and gather his wits again. Using his shoulder for further leverage and ignoring the fact that was becoming increasingly harder to breathe, he forced himself the last few inches to the elevator that would bring him to safety.

At least, that was the plan until he fell still, hearing the doors slide shut by his feet. He couldn't have gone more than ten feet, but already the exertion had nearly rendered him unable to move. He was covered in blood to spite his attempt to keep pressure on the catastrophic wound. For the slightest moment, his eyes ticked up to the panel of buttons. If he could just press that button, he could rest. If he could just get up… but his body was heavy. His chest heaved uselessly, the space his lung normally occupied filling with blood. He was drowning, the ever increasing lack of oxygen suffocating him. Stealing his strength.

He couldn't get up. He was going to die in this elevator. Blackness began to creep into the edges of his vision as the pain overwhelmed him, paralyzed though his mind was racing in a thousand directions at once. With one final tremendous effort to inhale deeply, he succumbed to the darkness, the dead weight of his body dragging him down onto his back into the now pooling crimson.

* * *

Addison knew Reed was going to be difficult to work with, but she never expected the resident to flat out disappear on her. Before she could return with the supplies, the patient's seizures subsided and the team rushed the pregnant woman toward the surgical wing, appropriate drugs on board in case (by some miracle) they could get things under control without surgery. It wasn't long before the redhead made the call to have her prepped for an emergency c-section, running a round of pre-operative tests in her resident's absence. It wasn't until she was already changed into her usual navy scrubs that she realized Dr. Adamson was _still_ nowhere to be found. _If she can't take an order, she shouldn't be a surgeon_, she thought dryly to herself. If the younger surgeon had run off somewhere, it was more than time for her to return, and Addison wasn't going to take no for an answer. Stopping by the nurses' station, she promptly paged for her resident to meet her in the OR. Surely, by the time the redhead was ready to scrub in, her surgery-hungry resident would appear at her side. After all, cutting was what drove young surgeons to stay competitive and on top of their education. From what she'd observed, the Mercy Westers didn't get as many chances at a surgery as the original residents did. Reed wouldn't pass up this opportunity. Addison went about her business, prepping and going through her usual ritual before the procedure. She even took time to make sure the OR board was properly updated to avoid any unnecessary confusion. Even then, when she stepped into the scrub room, Reed was nowhere to be found. A second page was sent, but met with no answer. _Something's not right_, the redhead narrowed her eyes in thought. Maybe it was time she go looking for Dr. Adamson.

It seemed only logical that the first place she should look was the last place she saw her resident. Taking the stairs to avoid the unnaturally long line at the elevator, Addison made her way down to the ER with only a minimal sense of urgency. She suspected that Reed was likely asleep in an on-call room or huddled in a broom closet somewhere trying to get ahold of herself. It seemed like an unusually long time for someone to have a sudden breakdown, but Addison figured anything could be possible. Emerging onto the still bustling ER floor, she looked around. The familiar faces she'd seen before had all moved along by now, likely prepping or operating on the patients they were busy with earlier. Still, there was no Reed. The redhead made her way past the nurses' station and down a hallway, peeking between the blinds of the trauma rooms. She thought she caught a glimpse of the doctor she was hunting for, but upon pushing the door open, she found she was sorely mistaken. Where else could she have gotten off to? There weren't many private places on this floor, the ER being the the one with the most unrestricted access. The exam rooms were all either empty or full of staff Addison wasn't interested in. After several minutes of searching, she came to the closed door that housed the supplies. Hadn't Addison sent Reed to get the appropriate things to treat the seizures her patient was suffering from? If she was going to find her, it was definitely going to be here. Pushing the door open, her eyes scanned through the rows of inventory, looking for a white lab coat behind them somewhere. "Dr. Adamson?" she called cautiously, frowning slightly. She could have sworn she would be in here…

_Squeak!_ Her sneaker squealed as she nearly slipped backward. _Why is the floor wet?_ Catching herself and regaining her balance, she looked down, expecting to find a puddle of water. In its place, she found a thick pool of blood and froze, her hand instantly covering the shocked expression on her lips. At her feet was what remained of her resident, slaughtered and bled dry by a single gunshot wound to the head. For a moment her knees felt weak as she tried to shuffle backwards, an intense nausea overwhelming her. Just as she managed to escape the sight behind a row of bins, she doubled over, vomiting up what little she'd managed to eat that morning and heaving until absolutely nothing was left. Reed was shot. Reed was _dead_. How did this happen? Did anybody else know? _Where is the shooter now?_ Not wanting to instill a panic, Addison fought to get ahold of herself, staggering to her feet. She had a surgery waiting. A surgery she definitely couldn't perform now. Picking up the phone, her shaky fingers struggled to dial the OR. "Yes… it's Dr. Montgomery," she fought to keep her voice level and calm, but her fear was putting an unpleasant pitchiness in her tone. "I'm… unavailable. Page Dr. Peterson for the c-section." Before another question could be asked she hung up, forcing her eyes back to the body. She had to tell somebody. _Derek_. There had to be a protocol somewhere on the books for this. There had to be…

But then she spotted something. Beyond the veritable lake of blood and buried beneath a trail of frantic sneaker prints, a very visible trail of smears caught her attention. Glancing to Reed's poor body again and resisting the urge to be sick, it became immediately apparent that the trail didn't belong to her. Kneeling briefly to ease the poor girl's eyes shut and whisper a silent apology to whoever might be listening, she cautiously inched forward. Whoever had escaped this room was obviously wounded. Step by step, she followed the swerving trail of blood into the hallway. A dried patch stained the wall, a pink smear over the elevator button. There was really only one place the other victim could have gone. Looking up, she cursed her luck. This particular elevator wasn't one that displayed the floors overhead. She had no idea where it might have taken the injured passenger. Who could it have been? Another doctor? A nurse? ...The shooter? She hesitated for a long moment, feeling suddenly chilled and far too alone in the dimly lit hallway. Her mind was racing, trying to make sense of everything without letting reality set in. She knew she was in shock, at least on some level, but this mystery was driving her forward. Reaching out, her morbid curiosity and possibly misplaced concern got the better of her. The button illuminated the instant she pressed it, staying lit for only a moment before going dark again. The elevator had never left this floor, she concluded. With a low, familiar _swish_, the doors pulled open. Bracing herself, she closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath before allowing herself to look inside.

The sight that greeted her was something she could have never possibly prepared for. Her breath caught painfully in her throat, her heart stopping dead in her chest as she simply stared. It wasn't just anyone. It was _Alex_.


	4. Everything Is Exactly As It Seems

**Everything Is Exactly As It Seems**

**Seattle Grace Mercy West - **Day of the shooting (with echoes of the past)

**Author's Note - **Hope you readers are enjoying this so far. Expect more action to come in the upcoming chapters.

* * *

_She didn't know much about the group of interns she was now responsible for leading toward some greater understanding of medicine, least of all the hotshot Alex Karev. He didn't seem to want anything to do with her or her specialty, and somehow by luck of the draw he avoided working with her longer than any of Bailey's other interns. Finally, she had a chance to have a good look at him as a surgeon, and he took the first opportunity he was given to cross her. Maybe she hadn't been wise in her decision to perform an 'emergency' tubal ligation, but the husband wasn't supposed to find out. Not until Alex made it a point to try and teach _her_ a lesson. At first, she thought he was just getting her in trouble because he could. Her day had been terrible already. She was tangled up in the tail end of a messy marriage that now included a series of infidelities. To be betrayed by yet another member of the hospital staff was a slap in the face she wasn't going to tolerate. '_Your ass is mine until I say otherwise. Congratulations._' Though it was a snap decision forged in anger, Addison never regretted making his life a living Hell. Alex constantly complained about how he was going into plastics and 'needed to get back to Sloan', but Addison could see well past that. Patients came and went, and each surgery she shared with him gave her another glimpse into the inner workings of the smart-mouthed intern. He was sharp in the OR, even if he was inexperienced. It wasn't long before the two worked like a well-oiled machine, and the little giveaways about his inner personality began to draw her in. Dr. Karev worked hard to convince the world that he was a callous, superficial ass, but his eyes were kind. She'd seen the way he could cradle a tiny infant after a difficult delivery; how diligently he sat at attention beside an isolette or staring down a fetal heart monitor. Her tiny patients depended on his devoted watch, and he refused to fail them. Above all else, Addison concluded, Alex was a decent guy. He wanted to pretend he was just like Mark Sloan, but the two couldn't be more different._

_Months slowly passed, and somehow Alex kept finding his way back onto her service. Even when he wasn't with her, he couldn't seem to resist dropping by when something interesting came along. He was intrusive and inappropriate, and a damn good doctor. When George O'Malley couldn't keep his wits together during an emergency c-section on a woman with two uteruses, Alex had jumped in. His observation was what saved the second baby from a premature delivery and almost certain death. Working with him was a pleasure, and as she rewarded him with more and more complex procedures, he returned the favor by sharing pieces of his past. A silent communication developed between them in the form of meaningful glances. Addison just couldn't help herself-she wanted to trust him, and he seemed to be silently asking permission to trust her as well. She was a complete train wreck when it came to the opposite sex, but he didn't seem afraid to let her in bit by bit. With so many tiny, intimate moments under their belts, it was only natural that the two had become closer friends. There was even a time where the redhead was certain a relationship was inevitable. The tension built beautifully between them until they finally shared a kiss that left her curiosity piqued more than satisfied. So _this_ was what his lips felt like against hers, she learned as she leaned in and stole them one evening at Joe's. They were rough, but the way he kissed her back was both tender and incredibly intoxicating. He easily consumed her thoughts in a way he fully deserved, but there were reservations on both sides. Addison was his attending-his _boss_-which meant this would greatly tarnish her reputation at the very least. Alex seemed to be similarly conflicted, and before Addison could decide to commit, his heart was no longer in it. Someone else had all his attention, and once again the redhead faded into the background, though not before the two had squeezed in a quick dalliance. Though she'd never told a soul, the disappointment in how much she enjoyed him was something she wouldn't soon forget._

_Leaving Seattle put space and time between the two, but there was always a hint of that unresolved tension when they worked together again. Over the passing years, she watched Alex move on to a new mentor and finally accept that he was meant to work with children. She watched as his skills and confidence continued to improve, providing support and consolation when things became unbearable. By the time she accepted Derek's offer to return permanently, her loyalty to Alex was unmistakeable. Their lively exchanges hadn't been changed by the hands of time, still devilishly teasing each other every time they crossed paths. It was a game the two of them played, sometimes to push the other's buttons, and other times to lighten the emotional baggage the other carried. In the privacy of exam rooms and the otherwise abandoned NICU, they shared details of their lives casually. It was easy to tell what the other was trying to say, the omitted phrases speaking just as loudly as the words that were chosen. The redhead knew he needed a friend right now; someone who wouldn't scold him for his poor judgement with Lexie, but wouldn't let him get too carried away, either. Someone who had his back and was there to listen and offer a little support, even if he didn't know how badly he needed it. She was glad to oblige, wondering if he sensed just how deeply she cared for him. More accurately, wondering if he still felt the same way on some level. In a weird way, Alex Karev had earned a place in what Addison considered her messed up family, which meant she would stick by him no matter the circumstance. _

Their entire history echoed through her memory in a flash, a thousand smirks, sly remarks, and looks of absolute anguish and understanding darting by. The resident was normally so animated and lively, seeing him lying in a pool of his own blood, his scrubs stained a deadly shade took a moment to fully register. Her entire body felt cold and numb as her thoughts compared her memory to the sight she was seeing, one very obvious question springing to life: was Alex… _dead_? It was obvious from the pattern across his scrub top that he'd been shot in the chest and kept right on bleeding. Whatever damage had been done, it was bad. For a moment longer she assessed the situation from afar, searching for any signs of life. _Oh, God. He's dead. Alex Karev is actually_ dead.

Only… that couldn't be right, could it? She'd already lost Reed. Alex _couldn't_ be gone. She wasn't ready to lose him, too. This death just didn't do justice to the life he lived and the person he was. Her mind made up, she suddenly found the strength to move. Without a moment's further hesitation, she darted into the elevator and slid to her knees, shuddering as her pants soaked up the warm liquid from the floor. Sitting back on her heels, she reached out to him with trembling hands, scared to touch him in case it might somehow hurt him. That, or confirm her worst fears. "Alex," she tried to find her voice, but it was difficult enough to try and regain control of her already ragged breathing. At first, his name came out as nothing more than a harsh whisper, emotion threatening to tear her throat apart. She frowned, pushing herself to be strong. Finally, her palms came to rest on his chest, her left hand instantly stained red. "Alex," she forced herself to speak, surprised at how angry and frantic she sounded. He _had_ to respond. He had to wake up and be alive and be himself again. Becoming more and more desperate by the second, she reached up and pressed two fingers firmly against his neck. To her immense relief, the constant, albeit strained thump of his heart fought back against the pressure. That son of a bitch was going to be in so much trouble for scaring her like this once he was out of this mess. "Alex, it's going to be okay," she assured him, though her confidence was somewhat wavering. At least the fact that he was alive and possibly still on the edge of consciousness released the death grip fear had on her. One hand slipped quickly under his shirt, her fingers searching for the wound in his side. It was difficult to find through all the blood, but she knew instantly when she landed on the mark. A sudden shriek of pain ripped through the silence of the tiny space, echoing off the walls as she felt his chest begin to quiver in quick, pained breaths. Though the trauma had caused him to pass out, it was clear that he still had plenty of strength left in him as he fought against her. Addison struggled to inspect the wound, but found the task nearly impossible.

"Alex… Alex!" she removed her hand from beneath his shirt, planting it on the floor beside his head so she could hover over him where he laid. At first, his eyes were unfocused and frantic, darting around the elevator aimlessly as if he couldn't see a thing. "Alex, you were shot… I need you to stay calm, okay?" The redhead wasn't afraid to be firm with him, finding the inner strength she previously lost in a moment of panic. It was clear that he was terrified and disoriented, which meant she had to be authoritative for the both of them. He still refused to look at her, struggling to right himself. Addison was quick to drop the soft weight of her chest down against his, hands cupping his cheeks and forcing his eyes to meet hers. "You're going to be okay," she promised, spelling each syllable out slowly and waiting for that glimmer of recognition through the sputtering coughs and grimaces, "Stop fighting me." As if on instinct, the minute he felt her against him he slowly fell still, his eyes searching hers in question before he could find the will to speak between gasping breaths. "That… bastard… shot me." Though she was less than an inch from his face, the words were barely recognizable. She could only imagine the amount of pain he was in between the trauma of the gunshot wound and the blood loss he had suffered so far. To spite this, he was still looking to fight back. His comment brought and uncontainable nervous and relieved sort of laugh out of her. Even though things looked bleak, he was still strong. He would make it out of here.

"I know," she said softly, instinctively stroking his cheek as if it could somehow distract him from the immense pain he must be feeling. Through a wince, he raised one eyebrow, finding amusement in the fact that his pain was bringing out the caring side of Addison once again. As soon as she realized how close she was to him, she released the sides of his face and sat up, her hip now sliding across the elevator floor. He was alive, but that didn't change the fact that she was still in a pool of his blood. He would live as long as she got him upstairs to surgery. But _how_ would she get him there? The ER was abandoned this far back, and she wasn't about to get out of the elevator and leave him alone. Besides that, she would have to somehow get him past Reed, who he may not have seen yet. Addison assumed the resident didn't like the Mercy Wester all that much, but if she could spare him any additional emotional trauma, she would go out of her way to do it. Being shot was probably traumatic enough for one lifetime. Her only other option was to ride the elevator up to the surgical lobby and pray that there weren't too many onlookers to see Alex in this serious of a state. Of course, if she didn't manage to move him soon, she wouldn't have to worry about his wounded pride anymore. The decision made, she glanced up to the buttons on the other side of the little box the two were now trapped in. Pushing herself to her feet, she grimaced as her fingers again felt the warm, sticky liquid. Being close to Alex was one thing, but this was _too_ close. Just as she went to stand, she felt a firm grip around her wrist. Looking back toward him, she saw a rare expression in his dark, warm eyes: fear.

"Don't… don't leave me here." He begged, refusing to let go. The redhead hadn't realized he might mistake her getting up for her leaving, but she shook her head slowly. "I won't. I promise." She felt his grip begin to loosen and a soft, troubled sigh escaped her. "We need to get you upstairs," the words were spoken like an order, but felt incredibly difficult to carry out. Still, even if she wasn't 100% assured, he seemed to trust her. Leaving his side only long enough to push the button for the second floor, she sat right back down beside him as she waited for the elevator to carry them to what was arguably the most familiar wing of the hospital for the two of them. The elevator car came to life, slowly lifting them to what Addison perceived as 'safety'. She rested a single hand over the center of his chest, giving it a light pat. "I don't even _want_ to know what you said to get yourself shot," she half-teased, trying to lighten the mood and somehow distract herself from the stench of blood, fear, and exertion. Her eyes were on the hole in his scrub top, studying the wound to see if the bleeding was under control on its own. Provided he didn't move, it seemed he would be okay until they got there. A pained chuckle called her attention back to his face, but it was cut off by a weak cough before he could protest her claim that this was his fault. All hint of a playful air faded from her expression, replaced with nothing more than concern for her colleague. "Hang on, Alex," she urged him with a sense that his strength was slowly slipping. With that amount of blood loss, she was amazed he was as alert as he was. At least the random incident had been isolated. Soon, Alex would be in the talented hands of SGMWs other attendings. The damage would be fixed and he would be back to work in no time.

A shrill _beep_ cut through the air as they passed between floors. Glancing down at her own pager, she frowned. It was silent, which meant it had to be Alex's. Sure enough, the stubborn resident was lifting his arm to reach for the stupid thing, which she supposed was nestled deep in his pocket as usual. Pressing his arm back down to the floor, she shook her head before he could protest. "Oh, no. You aren't allowed to move unless I tell you to." Addison was insistent, which Alex seemed to find endearing, albeit annoying. "Whatever you say… _Dr. Montgomery_." Her professional title rolled off his tongue with a smirk and she couldn't help but smile slightly. Alex really was an idiot sometimes, always getting himself into trouble, but that didn't change the fact that she was extremely fond of him. If anything, it only made her like him more. Finally, the elevator was coming to a halt at the requested floor. In a few seconds, she would be forced to leave his side and abandon her quiet caring in favor of a demanding and ruthless determination. Whatever Alex needed to get better, Addison was more than ready to get him only the best. Turning her attention toward the reflective surface of the double doors, she prayed that someone would be on the other side. Someone strong enough to help Alex to his feet, at least, so he could be quickly whisked away and treated. The idea of having to leave him there, even for a fraction of a second, was almost unbearable. From the other side of the door, she could hear what sounded like a louder than usual murmur for the lobby. It must've been a busy day for everyone to have so many people up here. Addison didn't expect anything out of the ordinary this time around, but as the doors swept open again, she realized how sorely mistaken she'd been. This shooting hadn't just been a random incident isolated to the ER. In fact, the problem was much, _much_ bigger than that.

The floor was absolute chaos. Family members, able-bodied patients, and hospital staff alike were all rushing towards any known exit. Screams and cries filled the air, coupled with the smell of gunpowder. Alex didn't seem to sense the panic, laying his head back against the floor and closing his eyes rather than taking in the scene. Addison, on the other hand, was forced to stare as the magnitude of the situation sank in. For a brief moment, she caught sight of a distinctly familiar face. Mark's tall figure was wrapped protectively around Lexie, covering her head and keeping her crouched low to the ground as they rushed into the other elevator. For a split second, their eyes met, but Addison was certain there had been no recognition. He had one goal in mind: save the love of his life. He was doing just that as he disappeared into the other elevator and presumably to safety. The room outside the sliding doors became shrouded in the unknown again as they clicked shut, obscuring her view. What seemed like a quick and easy solution to helping Alex had become impossible. Her false sense of well-being was quickly ripped away as the reality became crystal clear: there was a shooter in the hospital, and he was on a rampage. Alex was shot and bleeding. He needed medical attention and she was the only one in here with him. Everyone else was running for their lives, which meant her options on finding help were severely limited. Addison could try her luck on another floor and risk running into the shooter, or she could accept that this was probably the safest place to be and stay here. Lightning rarely struck twice, right? The gunman had left enough carnage in his wake not to return.

But was there help on the way? Obviously nobody had warned the people in the lobby until it was too late. Still, Addison knew someone else had seen Reed before she did. She could still remember the tracks that led out of the supply room and off down the hallway. Someone had to have warned Derek by now. Then it hit her: Alex's pager. She glanced up at his face, seeing the pained but somewhat subdued expression and frowning. Maybe he thought he was almost to safety. Maybe he was slowly losing consciousness again. Whatever was going on in his head, it didn't matter. If there was a hospital-wide warning, his pager would tell her better than her own. _Damn hospital programs... my pager number must not be on the list yet_. Without warning, she unceremoniously reached into his pocket, ignoring his subtle protest as she pulled out the small device. Checking the screen, she blanched. Lockdown. They were on lockdown. The group of people in the lobby were likely sequestered there as a safety precaution. _Like shooting fish in a barrel_, she thought with a sick remorse. The elevator was suddenly becoming a very safe place for her to stay. She could pull the emergency stop and use the phone to call 9-1-1. The only thing was…

She glanced to Alex again, who at this point was clearly slipping back towards the edge of unconsciousness. The quivering motion of his chest was beginning to calm, but she could see a fresh, glistening spot beginning to appear through the fabric of his shirt. He couldn't wait. He was bleeding into his chest, at least to some degree. If she chose to hide here with no supplies to aid her, he would die. As if to naturally follow that thought, another one dawned on her. If she didn't act quickly, she wouldn't have the option of leaving the elevator. It was the main transport system between floors in this hospital. Without it, the gunman would be significantly hampered, if not stopped entirely. It was only a matter of time before they shut it down.

"Alex…" she hated to disturb him again, but now his mental state became extremely important to her. If he slipped completely into oblivion, she wouldn't be able to move him. To spite the fact that Addison was fairly strong and tall for a woman, she was no match for someone of his size and musculature. When he didn't respond, she immediately shook him. "Alex!" She was relieved when he groaned and muttered a gruff, "What?"

"We have to move." Addison was insistent, though he didn't seem to be taking her seriously. He looked up at her like a minor annoyance before letting his head tilt back to one side, eyes easing shut. "Now!" she snapped, receiving another threatening glare from him. He must've been delirious. Either that, or his body was telling him the smart thing to do was to shut down and conserve as much energy as possible in the hopes that someone would save him before it was too late. No matter what his internal system was telling him, however, Addison was on a mission. Giving him another shake, he grunted and tried to swat her away. With a scowl, she reached her hand around his side, swiftly jabbing the skin immediately around the wound.

That certainly did the trick. Immediately he let out a howl, snarling in her direction. "This isn't a game, Alex! If you want to live, you have to listen to me!" He seemed to understand the sudden severity of the situation, although not without a grimace and an attempt to hold his side. "Jesus Christ, Addison," he let out in a half-cough, half-whimper. The stern look he was met with forced him to nod. "Okay, okay."

"We have to get off this elevator," she said as calmly as she could, but he could see straight through her attempt at stoicism. They were in trouble. _Really_ in trouble. What had started as a simple elevator ride to the wing where their fellow surgeons would stitch Alex back together had turned into something much more serious. Addison was scared somewhere underneath that attempt to be brave for him. That look told him she was all that stood between him and death right now. He had no choice but to try and cooperate. She looked down into his eyes, giving his uninjured side a reassuring rub. "Are you ready?" she asked somewhat meekly. Drawing in as deep a breath as he could and wincing with the effort, he nodded. Rising to her feet, she grabbed hold of his forearm, just below his elbow and urged him to reciprocate with whatever grip strength he had left. Slowly, painfully, she pushed all of his weight into her legs, dragging him inch by inch toward the door. Punching the button and taking in another deep, determined breath, she struggled to free him from the deathtrap, refusing to rest until his feet were clear of the door and she could collapse with her back against the side of the nurses's station, already tired from the effort. Alex's uncoordinated leg movements did little to aid her attempt to rescue him, but she appreciated the effort. Taking in a few deep breaths to stave off the exhaustion, she looked around the now-abandoned floor.

They were out of the elevator, but what now?


	5. Just Trust Me

**Just Trust Me**

**Seattle Grace Mercy West - **Day of the shooting

**Author's Note - **Remember when dermatology was the cool place to hang out and unwind? Maybe it's less cool in the face of crisis. Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this through the first few chapters. Any feedback you have would be greatly appreciated! I'm very interested to hear what everyone thinks so far!

* * *

Doctor Katie Collins hadn't been the smartest in her graduating class. She wasn't the most ambitious, ruthless, or determined of MD candidates. Sure, she was friends with people who chose surgery, emergency medicine, or OB/GYN as their specialty, but that wasn't Katie's gig. She always thought she was destined for something quiet. Safe. When she chose dermatology as her specialty and made it into the program at Seattle Grace, she was ecstatic. The young and enthusiastic doctor could still practice medicine and avoid most of the gory complications of cutting someone open. To put it simply, Dr. Collins was squeamish. Blood and Katie had never mixed, and she doubted anything would ever change that. Clerkships in medical school had only strengthened this conclusion, so looking at mild rashes and sores was the perfect job for her. Even the worst cases referred to her tiny slice of the hospital were nothing compared to what most doctors looked at on a daily basis. It had taken the intern a few weeks to get settled into the routine of working in the hospital and actually practicing medicine more often than studying it in books. The transition was fantastic, and Katie was finally beginning to conclude that this place was her second home. Everyone in dermatology was cheerful and relaxed. They practiced relaxing massage techniques on one another in their spare time and knew all the best tricks for staying rested and rejuvenated. Really, there wasn't a thing to complain about. Katie had completely forgotten she worked in a hospital except for the infrequent trips through the surgical lobby on her way to the lab with samples.

It was on one such trip that she found herself in the first spot of trouble she'd had in the few months SGMW had been her place of employment. Picking up a large manilla envelope that housed the lab results for a patient with a suspicious mole, the all-too-cheery sound of her pager rang through the chaos of the busy floor. Pushing a strand of long, blonde hair behind her ear and over her shoulder, she fiddled with the little device. Though all doctors were required to carry them if they worked in the hospital, hers rarely went off. The irritating chime she'd chosen for it was a testament to that fact. Her immediate conclusion when she saw 'LOCKDOWN' on the screen was to groan with frustration. The dermatology department was just on the other side of this section of the hospital, but now she wouldn't be allowed to leave the surgical lobby. For however long this 'lockdown' would last, she would be stuck in the world of the normal, dreary and stressed out doctors. Her only hope was that this was some sort of drill that would be over in a few minutes. Maybe then she could get back to the work she found most rewarding. Taking a seat in the family waiting area, she slumped back against the wall that housed the staircase to the upper floor, pulling her hair back into a ponytail with a sigh. Her curious hazel eyes followed the head nurse as she informed those without pagers of the protocol that was in place. People didn't seem all that alarmed, and Katie thought they had no reason to be. Nobody suspected anything out of the ordinary. To pass the time, she picked up a lively conversation with a woman sitting next to her, tuning out the rest of the world and trying to focus on something positive. At least if she was making small talk, the minutes would pass more quickly.

That seemed like a safe assumption, at least, until a man with a determined gaze strolled past. Dr. Collins glanced up momentarily, frowning slightly. Something sure had him in a bad mood. Shrugging it off, however, she paid him no further mind. It wasn't until the head nurse began calling out to him that she even bothered to look past the row of chairs opposite her. "Sir, you can't leave this area! The hospital's in-" _Bang_. Without thinking, she shrieked in unison with the rest of the staff and visitors in the area, simultaneously crouching low to the floor. It took a few seconds for the loud noise to register as a gunshot, though her brain immediately knew exactly what it was. She stayed huddled close to the floor, her fingers now locked in a white-knuckle grip on the lab results as she waited for some sort of a sign that she would survive. _Bang... bang_. A second shot followed in quick succession, and a third with a moment's further hesitation before only the pandemonium could be heard. Most of the people that had been milling around shared the same instinct: flee. Katie, on the other hand, was more hesitant. The sound had come from the stairs directly behind her. Shifting the folder away from her eyes, she glanced up over her shoulder, almost expecting to see the barrel of a gun greeting her. She breathed a small sigh of relief when she saw nothing but empty space. She was alive, and the guy with the gun had gone the other way. _But what if he comes back?_ Springing to her feet, she joined the swirling current of people in mass hysteria, trying to decide which way to run. Ideally, she wanted to be back in her own familiar wing of the hospital. The shooter had gone off up the stairs, which meant he would overlook her department just like most doctors did. Battling her way through the mess of people, she tried to make for her comfort zone, but it wasn't long before a swift shove sent her tumbling gracelessly to the floor.

The floor was surprisingly solid, jarring her petite frame as she crashed into it. With a second pained groan, she pushed herself to sit up, rubbing her elbow and expecting a bruise to appear. She glared at the injured spot for a moment before something caught her eye. Katie was convinced that the shots fired were simply a warning-inflicted to cause a panic so nobody would go after the man on a mission. Apparently, she couldn't have been more wrong. The nurse that had been behind the counter; the nurse that usually offered her a friendly greeting as she whisked past, was dead. A strangled little gasp escaped her as she stared wide-eyed, dropping the labs that now seemed unimportant. They settled into the dark crimson pool beneath the slain hospital worker, soaking it up and becoming illegible. This was Katie's worst nightmare. Surrounded by blood and chaos, trapped in the pressure-cooker of a traumatic event and frozen solid just like back in medical school. Pushing back as far as she could and pulling her knees up to her chest, she let out a high-pitched whimper, unable to pull her eyes away from the woman with her throat torn open by bullets.

The roar of screams and feet shuffling against the floor slowly died down until there was silence. Dr. Collins had taken up a sort of morbid staring contest with the now lifeless nurse, unable to move. This couldn't be happening. This was a hospital. She must've just fallen victim to one of her nightmares like she did when she first started working here. The quiet was almost more unnerving than the sounds of chaos, but at least in silence Katie knew nobody was coming back for her, for better or for worse. She could sit here and keep this poor, unfortunate nurse company until whatever rescue team finally made it inside. They would be able to tear her away from this sight, she hoped, because she certainly couldn't do it on her own. Her frame slumped as she hid part of her face behind her knees, the panic slowly wearing off. _Ding!_ The sudden and almost foreign sound of the elevator made Katie jump right out of her skin. Nobody was there, right? Someone must have pushed the elevator button and then run off thinking that escape route would be quicker. She listened, straining her ears for any tiny sound. Then, she heard it. The slight squeal of sneakers against something wet. Strained, panting breaths and slight groans of exertion and pain. Her first thought was that it must be another victim, somehow pulling himself along the floor. _Only this one is still alive_. That single thought terrified her, because if he (or she) was alive, they would need _her_ help. She was the only one here. The only problem was that she was useless. Another terrified whimper escaped her mouth before she clamped her hand over it, trying to silence herself. The last thing she wanted was to be found.

* * *

Concern was once again flooding Addison's gaze as she looked Alex over. She relinquished her grip on his arm, leaving him to lay at her feet for a moment while she caught her breath. The usually busy floor was deserted now, which meant she was on her own when it came to devising a game plan. Alex looked up at her expectantly, but he remained silent as if sensing she needed the quiet to think. Burying her face in her bloodied hands, she drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, gathering her wits once again. It was already physically taxing to get him this far. Ideally, she would take him to an OR or at least a patient room. Anywhere with a structured workspace and a closed door would do. The only problem was that now she had no reliable way of getting him to an OR, and no surgeon to help him if she even managed to get him there. She needed something closer. She needed a plan. He was still bleeding, though the flow had tapered off considerably. This both relaxed and worried her. On one hand, it would be much easier to move him without leaving a visible trail now, but on the other, lack of blood could just as easily be a sign that he was about to take a turn for the worse. The struggle to fill his lungs was obvious. Wherever she dragged him, he would need a chest tube if he wanted to live. Glancing around, her eyes searched for any signs of further danger. The supply closet wasn't far. She could get the things she needed and devise a way to get him somewhere secluded and safe. The redhead only wished she had an extra set of hands to help lighten the load.

As if someone had been listening to her thoughts, a tiny sound caught her attention. Was that… a whimper? Looking down to Alex again, she paused for a moment, listening. "What?" he questioned her quietly, but she put her finger to her lips and he was quickly silenced. It sounded almost like it had come from the other side of the nurses' station. Turning away from him, Addison leaned over enough to peek around the corner. She could see the bottom half of an unmoving figure, urging her to quickly scramble around to behind the desk area. To her dismay, the fallen nurse was very clearly dead, but huddled in the corner without so much as a scratch was another wide-eyed and terrified girl. Addison knew Alex would be struggling to figure out why she so suddenly abandoned him, but she couldn't think about that right now. This girl was unharmed and dressed in hospital-issue scrubs. Wherever she had come from, she was a doctor. She was help Addison needed.

The intern's dark hazel eyes shifted slowly to the surgeon as she appeared, the sudden threat of another presence in the room allowing her to look away from the dull, lifeless stare that wouldn't release its hold on her. "Are you alright?" Addison questioned softly, taking caution to approach her. There was an urgency behind the softness of her question, a certain level of desperation that clearly conveyed she needed this girl to be unscathed. Addison followed the blonde's gaze as she looked over the blood that was drying on her dark navy scrubs and painting her arms reddish brown. "I'm okay, it's not mine," she insisted gently, seeing the blonde's tiny frame begin to visibly shake. Obviously, whatever had happened, she was in shock and Addison had to tread lightly. Anything to keep her from running away was something she was willing to try. Anything to keep her calm and focused on something other than the carnage at her feet.

"I-I'm… I'm okay." Addison breathed a small sigh of relief when the younger girl finally spoke. Even if she was clearly on the edge of losing her grip on reality, she was still living in the current situation. "What's your name?" The redhead employed her calmest, most well-practiced soothing voice. It was the same way she spoke to nervous mothers to keep them from panicking during labor. It was a trick she had used many times. The blonde looked Addison over one more time, searching for some sort of assurance before she spoke again. "K-Katie. Katie Collins."

"Okay. Katie, I'm Addison." she smiled as much as she could muster given the strained situation. From the other side of the counter, she could hear Alex growing restless. "I'm okay, but my friend is hurt." She explained it in simple terms, careful to read Katie's reaction to the question that was inevitably coming next. The redhead kept her voice as low and level as possible, seeing the panic once again ignite in the younger girl. "Do you think you could help me?" Addison offered her cleaner hand out to the still terrified intern, hoping she would accept and let herself be pulled along. Katie hesitated, worry riddling her features.

"I… I, um… I'm not a surgeon. I… I don't like blood." Instantly, a sympathetic smile graced the redhead's features. "It's okay. I just need to move him, and I can't do it alone. Can you do that for me?" Addison watched Katie hopefully, and after a moment's hesitation, the blonde nodded and took the older woman's hand as a sign of acceptance. She gave the intern's hand a gentle squeeze as she helped her past the body that lay between them. The instant the gap was closed, Addison was surprised to find the blonde throwing her arms around her neck in an unanticipated hug. Sitting back, the redhead hesitated for a moment before gently rubbing the intern's back in soothing circles. It was unexpected, but then again, what was the expected response to something like this? The poor girl was trembling and terrified, likely having seen worse than even Addison had this morning. "I'm sorry," Katie whimpered into Addison's shoulder, gaining control of herself after the sudden but brief outburst. "It's okay… we'll go somewhere safe. He won't hurt you." It was a blind guess, but Addison figured this was likely the interns biggest fear. She seemed to calm herself further with the steady reassurance, much to Addison's relief.

"Addison!" Alex's voice carried from the other side of the barrier, frustration and pain turning her name into more of a plea than anything else. Katie looked confused, but Addison offered her another soft smile. "Come on," she tugged the girl along as she crawled back around the counter. They likely didn't have to stay low and protected anymore, but she wasn't about to take any chances. Katie stayed back a few feet as Addison settled at Alex's side again. Again, the blood seemed to be all the poor girl could focus on. "This is Alex," she spoke calmly, simultaneously giving his uninjured side another soothing stroke. He seemed immensely relieved to find that the redhead was back once again. If anyone was going to save him, it would be her. "It looks worse than it is," she assured the girl quietly, "but he needs my help, which means I need yours." Alex couldn't be bothered to do more than glance toward the apparent help Addison had found for him. Katie nodded stiffly, coaxing her eyes away from Alex's scrub top and back to his face, then the redhead's solemn features. "Good… good. Stay with him. I have to get something." Both Alex and Katie looked at Addison uncertainly, but time was slipping away from her and she couldn't pause to tell them her every plan. She needed a way to move Alex quickly and without leaving a trail for someone to follow later. If she was going to help him, it would be hidden in the safest place she could think of. Pushing herself to her feet after taking a cautious glance around the floor, she disappeared at a jog down the hallway, her footfalls near silent as she moved.

Even if she couldn't lift Alex onto a gurney or into a wheelchair, she could still use something to make the dragging easier. Navigating the short span of floor between Alex and freedom, she returned a minute later with a folded bed sheet tucked under her arm. Laying it out on the floor, Alex immediately smirked, trying to appear like the tough guy he was to the majority of the hospital. "What, are you gunna put me down, Montgomery?" She shot him a clear warning glare, telling him to shut up without a word. Katie instantly panicked, thinking Alex might just be serious. "He's kind of an ass," Addison explained, starting to tuck the edge of the sheet close to his side. "Oh," came the meek reply from the smaller blonde. Alex didn't seem entirely bothered by Addison's insult, which she was thankful for. The less the three of them talked, the more quickly she could move them somewhere more sheltered. "Help me roll him," all the gentility with which she talked to the intern was gone now, the redhead getting down to business and beginning to once again block the rest of the world out. Katie hesitantly came over, cringing at the sight of his oozing wound and instantly looking sick. "Katie! Look at me. The sooner we do this, the sooner we'll be safe." Somehow, likely by sheer will alone, Addison managed to keep Katie calm and focused. Together, the two of them pushed Alex onto his side, ignoring the groan of pain that accompanied the motion. Addison tucked the sheet under him as best she could before they eased him back down onto it. It wasn't perfect, but at least the fabric would reduce friction against the linoleum floor and soak up any blood the movement might free up.

Katie remained idling in the background, frozen until Addison could give her the next instruction. It wasn't ideal, but considering the intern likely knew very little about how to help Alex, at least she wasn't getting in the way. Addison checked Alex's vitals one last time, drawing up a mental list of everything she would need to find before they took shelter in whatever room she deemed safest. The supply closet, luckily, wasn't very far from here. Choosing an adequate and nearby workspace was where the difficulty truly was. It needed to be secluded, preferably with a solid door that a psycho couldn't shoot through. A broom closet might work, only the workspace on the floor would likely be too cramped and dark. The conference room was spacious, but there were a lot of windows along the wall that they could be easily spotted through. Then it dawned on her: the on-call room. It would save her some time, considering it already had blankets and pillows, and it was a place that was unlikely to be inspected by a marauding gunman. On top of that, it wasn't full of caustic chemicals that might get into Alex's bloodstream. Gathering a fistful of sheet, she looked to Katie. "We have to move now. Grab the other corner." The blonde did as she was told, and it wasn't long before they were making slow but steady progress. Addison could only imagine how humiliated Alex must feel, looking so vulnerable in front of a stranger, but he simply closed his eyes and tried not to wince as the floor slid by underneath his weight.

Several agonizing minutes later, they had stopped by the supply closet long enough for Addison to grab anything she might need to manage Alex's wounds. The redhead had apologetically piled the various instruments on top of him, beseeching him to stay still until they finally disappeared behind the solid door of the on-call room. The sheet had served both of its intended purposes fairly well. They wouldn't be found by blood trail alone, at least. That served as a feeble promise of safety. Once settled in, Addison went straight to work, organizing everything she had into a neat pile at Alex's side while Katie looked on from the mattress in the corner. "Is he going to be okay?" she asked in a hushed tone, unaware of how much sound might filter through the walls. With a pair of surgical scissors, the redhead swiftly cut him free of the blood-soaked scrub top, exposing his chest to her hawk-like blue-green eyes. "Yes," she answered automatically, though she honestly didn't know the answer to that question. Even after she mopped up the excess blood surrounding the wound, she wasn't sure of the extent of his injuries. He was awake, though his mental status was questionable. He'd lost a lot of blood, and Addison knew he was about to lose more the minute she started poking around. Sliding a pair of gloves on, she leaned in closer, brows furrowed in thought as she checked the wound. In response, Alex grit his teeth in another strained groan. It wasn't long before she concluded he needed a surgeon with skills she simply didn't possess. "There's no exit wound," she muttered grimly. Who knew where the bullet had lodged, or how much damage it had done along the way. Alex sensed the trouble, but the sensation of her fingers tracing over the bullet hole kept him from protesting anymore than the constant gasps and painful outcries.

"I'm sorry, Alex," she leaned in and whispered her sympathies in his ear as she threaded an oxygen tube across his face, knowing this was probably going to be more traumatic than the shooting itself. There simply wasn't time to get to the drug lock-up for any sort of painkiller. The confusion and fear in his expression was obvious, the fight suddenly reignited in him. "What are you freaking sorry about?" he demanded, trying to pull his hand away as she went to start an IV. "I'm fine," he insisted suddenly. Pinning his arm down with her knee, she frowned. "Katie, I need you to hold him still. You lost a lot of blood, Alex, and you're still bleeding. You need to let me work." He didn't seem thrilled, but Katie came and helped hold his arm down long enough for the redhead to get the IV started successfully. Sliding a spare pillow beneath his head with a gentle sort of care Alex hadn't often experienced, she let out a terse sigh and stared out the half-drawn blinds. Katie looked to her in question, her hands still holding Alex's arm down. "… Dr. Montgomery?" She questioned the older woman tentatively, wondering why she'd suddenly stopped. Half of the things in the room hadn't even been touched, and they'd been torn off of shelves as if they were the only things standing between Alex and death. After a lengthy pause, she looked back to the two of them.

"I have to put in a chest tube." The delivery of the sentence told Alex everything he needed to know. She didn't have any way of making it any less painful. It was a procedure she didn't often do, though she was fully qualified to do it, and the fact that he was awake and looking to her to save his life was an incredible amount of pressure. "No," he forced out in the strained voice that seemed to be the norm now, "I'm okay. No chest tube." Katie looked from Alex to Addison and back again, trying to understand the half-conversation the two of them were carrying. Obviously, the two of them understood something she didn't. After another pregnant pause, Addison forced herself to drag the instrument tray to her right side. "Katie," she spoke without looking up, emotion tearing into her voice unpleasantly, "I need you to hold his arm up, like this," she demonstrated, ignoring Alex's protests as best she could. "I'm going to make an incision," she explained, walking herself through the procedure mentally as she swabbed his skin with disinfectant. For the second time since they'd met, Katie looked as if she might be on the verge of passing out. "I _need_ you to do this for me," she insisted, making eye contact with the intern again. "You can do this. Just hold him-"

"No, Addison," Alex pleaded as she picked up the scalpel, suddenly wanting nothing more than to escape Katie's grip and flee. Hearing him in such a state pushed her toward her emotional limit, and she snapped in a familiar flash of anger. "I am trying to talk myself into doing this to _save your life_, Alex. I cannot do that if you are begging me not to help you. I know this is crazy, and it's going to hurt, and neither of us wants to do this. So, please, shut up. Just _shut up_ and trust me." He fell silent, looking at her as if she might fall apart at any second. He hadn't realized until now just how difficult he was making this for her, and mustered his last bit of sense to try and cooperate. "Don't look at me like that," she fired back defensively, looking away for a moment longer. She needed a moment away from his eyes to collect herself. She was about to cut into his side, and he was going to feel every slice of pain. She had a nervous non-surgical intern holding him in place with what little strength she possessed, in a less-than-sterile room with very little to protect him from infection. "Whatever you do," she started slowly, looking into Katie's frightened hazel eyes again, "don't look down, and don't let go."

Resting one hand on his chest to steady herself, she brandished the blade in the other and looked to him. Though he said nothing, she finally found the meager encouragement in his eyes that she needed. He trusted her to do this. She had to. With a determined sigh, she closed her eyes and counted to three under her breath, pressing the blade to his skin and tracing a neat incision between his ribs as a fresh trail of blood blazed its way down his side.


	6. Don't Leave Me

**Don't Leave Me**

**Seattle Grace Mercy West - **Day of the shooting

**Author's Note - **Sorry this one took so long. I hope it was worth the wait!

* * *

"Sir, you have to stay back." The police officer was firm, his hand resting gently but insistently against the musculature of Mark's chest. Barricades were going up like wildfire flames all around the extensive medical campus. The blaring yellow sawhorses and lines of tape and law enforcement personnel were there to send a clear message, but he couldn't make sense of it. Mark was a simple man. He didn't necessarily always do the right thing, but he always had good intentions. Even with this screwed up moral compass, he still maintained certain rules when it came to life and how to handle it. One of these rules-maybe even the most important to him as a doctor-was that when people were in trouble, it was his job to be there. This was especially true of his closest friends. Back in New York, Addison, Derek and himself had been the closest thing to a family he'd managed to cultivate. That wasn't to say he thought he belonged in his friends' lives all the time, but he was loyal to them when they needed him to be. It had been Mark who stepped in when Addison was at the end of her rope with Derek. It had been Mark who chased after Derek and Addison to make sure they weren't slowly falling apart on the opposite coast. Even if he wasn't faithful when it came to physical commitment in most cases, he still knew how to be a friend. Right now, being a friend in his mind only meant one thing: going back in.

"Those are my people in there!" His voice erupted gruffly from his chest, his frustration written in bold red ink all over his expression. He knew this was pointless. The officer stood his ground, stone-faced and solid. He was following orders, just as Mark was trying to follow his moral obligation. The fact that his argument was a moot point was not something he considered. It didn't matter how many other hospital personnel were trying to push their way through the lines and run back in to check on their work-families. He couldn't rationalize. By most people's standards, he had done well. He deserved a curt pat on the back, even. Instinctively, he shielded Lexie with the bulk of his own body and dragged her to safety. He should be happy. He saved one very important person in his life. By most measures, that was a grand gesture and a success. Why, then, did he feel like crap? True to his nature, Mark wasn't satisfied with simple survival. It wasn't enough to escape. Giving one last useless lunge against the police man before he retreated, the wheels in his head were already turning. Where brute strength didn't work, Mark could also be clever. Where most saw a complex and difficult situation, he saw only the facts. There was danger. His family was in trouble. He had to go back for them, and nothing was going to stop him from doing it. Mark didn't think of the consequences of such an action. He would make it work like he always did. He had much more to gain by going back than he did by standing here helplessly and hoping. His _family_ was in there.

Derek was the head of the hospital, which meant he couldn't leave. Mark didn't need confirmation to know that was true. 'Chief Shepherd' was someone he admired, even if he never stopped teasing him for his recent promotion. Deep down, though Mark liked to believe he was his own man, he was always following in Derek's footsteps, always trying to best him and always ending up with his leftovers. Same taste in drinks, same grooming rituals, same taste in women. Derek was his brother as much as he was his best friend. That being said, it wasn't the neurosurgeon's face he couldn't get out of his head. In his place, soft red hair framed a frantic yet beautiful visage. Mark was more than capable of imagining Derek was safe and sound in some obscure room of the hospital. He hadn't seen him, but he'd seen _her_. He'd met those terrified blue-green eyes for a split second in the chaos. Mark had seen her trembling hands mucked up with blood; the same blood that she wore in unceremonious smears up her arms. For all the time and all the history that stood between the two of them, she still had the ability to demand his attention. There hadn't been time to think when he was standing there waiting for the elevator doors to swing open and take him and Lexie to safety. Now he had all the time in the world, and one conclusion was becoming increasingly clear through the chaos. Addison was in trouble-real, tangible trouble. He didn't ask questions or run what if scenarios in his head. Instead, a set of narrowed blue eyes was hunting for a weak point in the system. There had to be one loose link in this fence, and with a smug little grin, Mark knew he was going to find it. He just had to wander far enough from the main parking lot and the chaos that was swarming it and he would be rewarded.

"Mark!" He knew that voice well. It was one he missed since doing its owner harm. It carried a scolding flavor that made his skin itch. He tried to ignore it, but a second later he felt Lexie's hand clap around the crook of his elbow and give it a tug. It was no use now-he was caught in the act. "Where are you going?" Mark turned to face her finally, meeting her dark, questioning eyes for a moment before fixing his gaze to the ground. "Lexie…" She knew him well. She would understand what he was doing and why.

"Mark…?" Okay, so maybe she didn't immediately understand. He looked up at her again, gently pulling his arm free. Realization slowly spread across her face, followed by a look that tugged painfully at his heart. "You can't," she started in hesitation. He could tell even without looking that the very idea of Mark going back into the danger zone was going to bring her to tears if she thought about it for too long. "Y-y-you can't go back in there, Mark!" She demanded his full attention and he gave it to her without a second thought, concern thinly masking his resolve. Lexie just didn't understand this part of the plastics surgeon. She couldn't possibly understand the sense of duty he had. If she did, Sloan wouldn't have been a problem when she showed up pregnant and Mark wanted to take care of her.

"They're my family, Lex," he employed a compassionate baritone with her, touching her arm as if it would make her understand. When she instinctively flinched away, it stung. How could he make her understand his point of view? If he stood by and did nothing while they possibly died, he would hate himself. Mark needed these people. They were the closest, most supportive people he had in his life, and it wasn't just Derek and Addison. It was Callie. It was Arizona by extension. It was all of them. "I have to," he concluded grimly, "Stay here."

He turned away from Lexie only to feel her catch his arm a second time. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Wait a minute. Mark!" Mark took a moment to pause, his will torn between two equally pressing causes. With a slow turn of his head, he looked at Lexie, already knowing he was going to get a massive protest out of her. It had already started, and he wasn't sure if he could stop it. "There's a shooter in the hospital. A _shooter_, like with a gun. He shot people. He _killed_ people, and nobody knows who he is or where he is and…" she trailed off for a moment and Mark wondered if she knew she was rambling. She had a tendency to do that. She also seemed to sense when he was waiting for her to come to the point. He had to admit, the emphatic hand gestures were cute. That, and the blonde hair was hot. _Focus on her face. She's talking to you_. "People are _dead!_ You can't go in there. Mark," She could tell she wasn't reaching him. He knew by the insistent use of his name, so he forced himself to listen harder. "Mark… don't go back in there. Please."

He needed time to process. His heart was pulling him in two directions at once. Lexie was being reasonable, and Mark hated that her argument made sense this time. He was the kind who ran head-first into danger without thinking twice because something inside told him to. He didn't worry about himself. He'd never gotten into trouble he didn't make it out of, so he had no reason to worry. Beyond that, nobody had ever worried about him quite like this. He didn't know how to take it. Lexie ended things with him, yet she was standing there beseeching him to stay outside. Staying here meant keeping Lexie calm, but it also meant leaving everyone else to fend for themselves. That blood. Was it Addison's? Who had she even been kneeling next to? Mark had only looked for a split second-just long enough to subconsciously register the redhead in the other elevator. He had no way of knowing how the other surgeons were, or even where they were. It was chaotic before the shooting had even happened. "I'm sorry, Lex." He didn't even know he'd spoken. His ears were deaf to her begging cries. Without looking back at her again, he turned and darted for the obscure entrance that was yet to be secured. The door clicked shut behind him before he could even consider glancing back to see the tears streaming down Lexie's face as she called after him desperately. There was no discussion to be had. This was the greater good. Mark was sure of it.

* * *

The sound of Alex's cries was ear-splitting, but there was no turning back now. She had to focus on what she was doing, no matter what it felt like to him. Addison grit her teeth, glancing up from her work to check on her patient and the sad excuse she found for help. Katie was still holding him in place with what little strength she possessed, staring at the far wall and chewing her lip to try and maintain composure. For now, she knew it was best not to say anything to the intern. The redhead could easily recognize that look in her eye. Any little thing would set her off and send her running, and Addison wasn't keen on the idea of being alone with Alex in this state. She paused for a moment, waiting for the shrill yell to fade into the background of his panting breaths before preparing her next move. Before she even touched the new wound she'd gifted him, he jerked against his restraint. Her intense gaze jumped instantly to meet his, knowing instinctively that he was looking for her full attention. Through sputtering gasps, he was trying to formulate words, but his eyes did most of the talking. Addison wasn't sure she'd ever seen him in such pain. Thankfully, Katie was oblivious to the hesitation. She didn't even notice when Addison's hand began to tremble, but Alex did. If this hurt, it was nothing compared to what came next, and the look in his eye made her want to give up and lay down beside him until blood loss and shock finally rendered him unconscious. His eyes quietly begged her to stop, his lips forming a silent 'please' where he couldn't find his voice, and for a moment she lost all mental control.

This was insane. It was absolutely insane. Things like this just didn't happen in hospitals. Shootings happened in banks or in apartments where wronged spouses fought passionately until one was declared the winner. They happened in back alleyways and at random in bad neighborhoods. The fact that she was trapped in a room not outfitted to handle any type of emergency with what was clearly an emergent problem was absurd. She wanted to stop. She wanted more than anything to spare Alex of this additional trauma, but she simply couldn't. The alternative was sitting here and watching the life slowly fade from his eyes as he succumbed to the extent of his injuries. It was an alternative that was simply unacceptable. "I'm sorry," she spoke with surprising softness, knowing her apology was meaningless. It wouldn't spare him from any of this or make him feel better. Knowing she had to continue to spite his protests, she tried her best to tune out the scream that erupted from him the minute her instruments touched his flesh. The piercing exclamations couldn't wear him out quickly enough, each one tearing at every fiber of her being until Addison was sure she couldn't possibly open her eyes to continue. All the reassuring glances and touches in the world wouldn't bring him to a calmer state. "Please," she begged him, squeezing her eyes shut and halting her progress once again, "please, Alex. Please just…"

She could barely hear herself over his incessant outbursts. Dropping what she was doing and ignoring the fresh blood that stained her gloves, she rested her hand on his chest and dropped down to his level, ignoring Katie who seemed to be lost in her own world. "Shhhh," Addison urged him to stillness, trying to be patient while still keeping the very important factors of time and volume in the back of her mind. "You have to be quiet," she reminded him, swallowing back the sudden overwhelming urge to cry. Until this moment, she hadn't registered the severity of their situation, but if Alex continued to make such a racket, they'd be easy to find. For the safety of the people she was now responsible for in this room, they could not be discovered. "Please, I know it hurts, and it's not going to stop unt-"

Her proximity and soothing words proved ineffectual as he continued to wail, shouting profanities between screams that would leave him hoarse under any conditions. Even if she did this quickly, he would still be feeling the tube after it was placed. There was nothing she could do for him, short of knocking him unconscious. On top of that, Katie was starting to whimper, fat tears rolling down her cheeks as her lip quivered uncontrollably. Everyone in the room was near their breaking point, and Addison was the only one in any position to solve this problem. Looking around for anything within reach, she settled for a balled up corner of the sheet they dragged Alex in here with. Forcing the fabric into his mouth, the sound was finally muffled. There was no time for her to revel in this small reprieve, however. He was still in excruciating pain, and she still had a job to do. Giving his arm a squeeze in conjunction with her most apologetic expression, she made quick work of jamming the tube into place, keeping a steady cadence of counting in her head to keep her from focusing on anything else. The minute she lost focus again, she knew she wouldn't be able to finish what she started. Right now, Alex needed Addison to finish this.

"There. Tube's in," she proclaimed at last, watching as the tube began to drain the excess blood from his chest. Though the redhead knew it probably didn't bring him any relief, at least he was going to be okay. Maybe not if they were stranded for an extended period of time, but for now, she could keep him stable. Throwing a quick yet fastidious stitch to keep the tubing in place, she sat back and blew out a heavy sigh. The stray strands of auburn hair fluttered before her eyes as she took a minute to breathe. Alex was finally beginning to calm down again, though she wasn't sure if it was from the lack of force on the wound or if it was because exhaustion was finally catching up with him. Either way, she was thankful when little more than whimpers escaped him. Looking back up to Katie, she tried her best approximation of a smile, knowing it fell short. "You can let go now," she spoke softly, watching as the intern slowly recognized her command and did so. The two women sat back for a moment in silence, sharing a look that didn't carry any real meaning before Addison busied herself with making sure Alex was as stable as he could be. Leaning over him, she pulled the fabric free from his teeth. "Thanks," he said weakly. A forgiving, apologetic smile tugged insistently at the corners of her lips as she looked down at him.

"You're welcome," she offered back with a teasing undertone. His weak smirk demonstrated his appreciation, though it was soon interrupted by a wince and a low groan. Addison could tell by the look in his eye that he was beginning to fade. The IV was helping, but the energy was still draining from his body. The output from the chest tube was certainly not making matters any better. Discarding her gloves, she allowed herself a moment to drop her ear to his chest, listening to his heart and lungs without the aid of the stethoscope she'd misplaced somewhere in the chaos. He seemed startled by the sudden contact, but certainly not uncomfortable with the gentle weight against his body. Addison figured at this point, any human contact would be a comfort. Without Alex saying so, she could tell he was beginning to give up. The blood loss was beginning to venture beyond what he could handle, and without a transfusion, he was going to die in this room. Given the situation, he likely didn't think one was even possible. "You're going to be okay," she assured him, but they shared a look that shared their secret-neither of them could really believe Addison's claim any longer.

* * *

Katie wasn't sure what was worse: the fact that there was a shooter loose in the hospital, or the fact that the demanding redhead had left her alone with her colleague-turned-patient. Even though the blonde had protested vehemently against being left alone, Dr. Montgomery had insisted this was the only course of action that made sense. If they both stayed here with Alex, he would die. He needed blood, and Dr. Montgomery had access where Dr. Collins didn't. She had expertise that the dermatology intern didn't. The surgeon had made it very clear that she needed to bring him several things to make him comfortable and keep him stable. In the meantime, Katie had to stay with Alex and make sure he didn't try to die on them. For someone who did not like blood, gore, or watching people in immense amounts of incurable pain, this was no simple task. She was still sitting on the floor by Alex's side, although there was a clear and obvious distance between their bodies. Her eyes darted swiftly from the wall to the lamp to the window. Rarely did she let her gaze settle on his form. His face was contorted into a permanent scowl that Katie was certain was from the gruesome procedure he just endured. His chest was bloody and exposed, the tube emerging from between his ribs like some sort of sickening vacuum, draining the dark crimson fluid from him. The whole thing was like a horror film, and Katie wanted out.

At least in dermatology, things were bright and shiny. They had massage therapists to tend to them in their down time. There were always refreshments and smiling faces. The intern craved the calm that came with being in her element, only unlike the surgeons she was stuck sharing company with, her element was behind the reception desk or removing small patches of skin for biopsies. The blood and gore she was surrounded by now couldn't be farther from her pleasant reveries. Looking out the window, she imagined what it must be like beyond the confines of this room. There was a gunman somewhere within these halls. He'd already shot at least two people that Katie could count, but something told her there were likely more. Beyond the immediate chaos of the hospital, a few blocks down the street, strangers walking along probably had no idea what was going on here. She was trapped in Hell while countless others were going about their daily lives as if nothing was different. To them, nothing _was_ different. They were simply getting their groceries or taking their kids to the park. It was overcast, but not raining. That was as good as sunshine for this time of year. If Katie hadn't picked this shift today, she might be one of those other people, but instead she was stuck babysitting her worst nightmare and waiting for a woman who might very well never return. What if the redhead had simply passed this Alex guy off to her so she could flee to safety? What if she was intercepted and killed somewhere between here and the blood bank? Scenario after scenario popped into the easily excitable blonde's head until finally she was certain one of these nightmares was going to come true. After all, being trapped with a shooter in the hospital _was_ a nightmare. What was stopping it from getting worse?

She was so busy listening for the slightest sound on the other side of the door that the loud noise of Alex sputtering on the floor more than startled her. She jumped, almost getting to her feet before she realized it wasn't a gunshot or a footfall that disturbed the near silence. Instead, it was a sickening, choking sound that had her attention. "Oh, God…" she trailed off, hesitantly letting her hazel eyes fall to his face. The expression she was met with made the color drain from her skin. It was clear that he was struggling, the sound of his labored breathing unlike anything she'd ever heard before. Whatever was wrong, he was suddenly looking at her with dark, begging eyes. She didn't know what the problem was or what the solution was, either. All she could see was the panic in his eyes as he fought for air, making a sound like he was drowning on dry land. Slowly at first, she started to back away from him. This was too much. It was all too much to ask of her. She couldn't handle things like blood and dying patients looking into her eyes for answers she didn't have. "I… I…" she stammered, still pushing herself farther from him. If he was going to die anyway, she wasn't going to be here to feel helpless as he did. "I'm sorry," she whimpered, scrambling to her feet. In a flash, she bolted out of the on-call room, running down the hallway and towards her beloved dermatology department as fast as her now-weakened legs would carry her. The nausea that was churning up her stomach drove her without a touch of concern, completely forgetting the danger she was hiding from. Compared to the sight of a man dying at her feet, this danger seemed a lot more tame. Alex was left alone, gasping for air and too weak to cry for help. Even if he could, nobody would be around to hear him.

* * *

Addison was in a rush. The time for keeping her cool had long since come and gone, and the only reason she was holding onto the last straw of sanity she had left was so she could travel the hallways with a sliver of caution. At this point, the neonatal surgeon knew she was the only thing standing between Alex and death. Being captured in the halls, either by the gunman or by some sort of rescue effort, was not an option. In what felt like record time she made her way to the other end of the surgical wing, grabbing supplies up as she went. The only thing she had to carry them with was her own two arms, so she had to pick her prizes carefully. With an armful of blood and handfuls of other supplies including a precious dose of painkillers, she knew she could keep Alex alive. Provided he didn't have some complication she wasn't equipped to handle, he would make it through the day. At that moment, his safety was the only thing forcing her to hold herself together. She couldn't think about the danger or the fact that he was now alone with an intern who knew nothing of surgery or how to help him should something arise. She couldn't think about the possibility of never making it back to him in one piece. Somehow-probably by somebody's cruel design-Addison had been entrusted with her former intern's life, and she'd be damned if she failed to survive this test. She was Addison Forbes Montgomery. Failure was not in her vocabulary.

Not a soul was wandering the hallways as Addison made her way back with painstaking care. With her hands full, she couldn't afford to be clumsy or allow herself the luxury of being startled. Each corner was a new and terrible uncertainty for her. Each tiny echo in the empty chambers was cause for her to glance over her shoulder in paranoid alarm. Addison had never seen the place deserted like this, and it was an ominous feeling. Behind the desk, she knew there was a dead body. She had seen the chaos in the lobby when the gunman first opened fire there. The silence was unsettling now. Though she hadn't seen another body or bullet hole on her journey to the blood bank, she still never quite ruled out the possibility as she came back through from another angle. _Please just let me get to Alex_, she kept repeating in her mind, trying to keep herself grounded to any tangible thought. The stress of the silence and her perpetual expectation of hearing the first sign of danger were weighing heavily on her, forcing her palms to sweat and her heart to thud against her ribcage. For one who kept her cool so often in stressful situations, this was an entirely foreign feeling. She would be glad once she finally returned to the safety of the on-call room. She was only a short distance away now. If she could just get there…

A sudden sound had Addison frozen in her tracks. They were footfalls; light and rhythmic. She could hear the frantic, panting breaths of their owner as he or she ran through the halls, sneakers near-silent on the linoleum. Whoever they were, they were beyond Addison's line of sight and moving away from her. Still, she crouched behind a laundry bin and waited, holding her breath so as not to be confused by the sound of her own inhalations. Whoever it was, they were running from something. Addison could only hope it wasn't the shooter. Cautiously, as the sound began to fade, she re-emerged into the hallway. Still ducking low to the ground, she crept along one step at a time, eyes wide and searching for any tiny sign of trouble. She hoped more than anything that whoever was in the process of fleeing was stranded before and on their way out to safety. She hoped, at least, until she heard it. A sudden squeal, and then... _BANG_.

The shot resonated off the walls, ricocheting and assaulting her eardrums with incredible concussive force. In the silence, that one sound was as clear as crystal. Thankfully, if her ears weren't playing tricks on her, she wasn't trapped with the gunman between her and Alex. Wherever he was, he hadn't found Alex yet. The only problem was that he might be coming back, much to the redhead's terror. Without thinking, she bolted. The sudden surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins made her feel incredibly agile as she carefully planned each footfall with silence in mind. If she was quick, she could get to him. If she was fast enough, the ringing aftershock of the gunshot might make her entirely inaudible to the man who had just pulled the trigger yet again. Above all else, one truth remained. It drilled itself into Addison's psyche over and over again. She had to get to Alex before anything else could. She had to keep him alive and safe.


End file.
